


Azying

by MissieMoose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Bifur Is a Sweetheart, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Disabled Fili, Dwalin is a Good Friend, Dwalin is a big softie, Family, Friendship, Humor, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Nori technically kidnaps a child and becomes a papa, Ori Is A Sweetheart, Rewrite, Slice of Life, Slow Romance, Spymaster Nori (Tolkien), To An Extent, even nori, everyone lives au, hell they're all sweethearts, movie and book verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 207,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: It's been eight years since Erebor was reclaimed by the Company of Thorin Oakenshield and both the Lonely Mountain and the city of Dale are well on their way to restoring their former glory in a time of peace and prosperity. For Bofur, Bifur, and Ori, however, things are...well, things are boring. The three turn their eyes towards Dale, where the cousins hope to renew the city's toy market and once again make it the wonder of the north while Ori just wants to escape Dori's overbearing nature. After arriving at an inn called the Full Tankard, they soon discover that Dale has a lot more in store for them than they could have ever imagined...
Relationships: Bofur (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Dwalin/Ori
Comments: 34
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Finding Their Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/812945) by [MissieMoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose). 



It was not yet quite evening when the five dwarves entered Dale, but the skies were already dark. Heavy clouds hid the sun from view as they drenched the city and the surrounding lands with cool rain. Being still early in the year—by the reckoning of Men, at least—meant that the days were cold and the rains colder. Though the five had endured far worse conditions in their lives, it was still a rather unpleasant experience.

What managed to cheer them up a bit, however, was the sight of how well the city was coming along. As they rode their ponies through the streets, they could see that the buildings no longer looked like ancient ruins. In fact, many of them looked as if they had never seen dragonfire or the rages of battle—a vast improvement since the first time they had been in the town.

“It’s only been eight years and it seems they’ve got most of the buildings repaired! Even after wandering around for a few days, we didn’t see too many left untouched,” the eldest dwarf in the group commented. “Of course, they’ve had help from us dwarrows to speed things along…Though, I’m sure their share of the treasure Thorin gave them was a big help as well.” He sat up a little straighter in the saddle, narrowing his eyes slightly so he could see through the rain in his eyes. Flicking the reins, he and his pony led the group down a side street to their left.

Noticing the way he had sat up and looked around in slight confusion, another one of the dwarves cocked his brow. “Are you sure we’re goin’ the right way, Dori? I haven’t seen many taverns or inns so far.” As he tilted his head, some water sloshed out of his hat.

“Bofur, that’s the fourth time you’ve asked me that since we left Erebor—of _course_ I’m sure this is the right way!” Dori retorted, his voice betraying his pouting. “And if I’m wrong—which I’m _not_ —Ori was sure to take down detailed directions the last time we were here. Didn’t you, Ori?” He looked over at his youngest brother in time to see him readjusting his soaking wet hood.

“I was,” Ori replied, giving up his efforts. “At this next fork, we take a right and it’ll be the last building at the very end of the street.”

Dori nodded his thanks before turning around to beam at the other dwarves. “See? He has it written down _and_ memorized!” He wasn’t about to admit it to the group, but he had been about to lead them around another left turn until Ori spoke up.

“Ori’s always been a helpful bugger like that,” the fourth member of their group commented. “Without him, you’d be lost with all o’ your trade deals. You wouldn’t be able t’ tell who you trade fine salts with from who you trade wines with.”

Again, a pout came to Dori’s lips as they rounded the next corner. “You hush, Nori. I could too keep track o’ all my business associates. It just…wouldn’t be in as neat of a fashion.”

“That’s a big inn,” the fifth member of their group suddenly said.

The other four looked at the very end of the street only to see a large, three-storied building with a courtyard. Like the rest of the city, its walls were painted harvest gold with a stripe of red and blue designs along the first and third floors. The windows of the first floor were glowing brightly with a warm, welcoming light and they could see people moving around inside.

Squinting through the dying light, the fifth dwarf was just barely able to make out the Westron letters spelling out the name of the inn. “The Full Tankard,” he read aloud. “Sounds promisin’!” A grin spread across his lips at the thought of a tankard filled with good beer.

“Ah, an’ you’ll be glad to hear that it lives up to that promise,” Nori grinned.

“Just don’t go puttin’ their hospitality to the test,” Dori warned. “This is a nice, _respectable_ establishment and the family that owns it are very nice people. I won’t tolerate either of you two treatin’ this as another Bag End visit!”

Bofur snorted, remembering how they had practically eaten their dear friend, Bilbo, out of house and home. “As if Bifur an’ me would ever be anything _but_ the pinnacle o’ politeness an’ respectability. Why, I’ll have you know, Thorin thinks we’re some o’ the more polite members whenever the Company gets t’gether for drinks back at the Hammer ‘n Nail!”

“Says the one who’s always first t’ burst out into bawdy songs,” Nori grinned.

“Which he _won’t_ do here,” Bifur said. “At least, not until someone else starts t’ sing them first!”

Dori let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes at his companions. Though he knew they were just joking around and that they would be polite, he couldn’t help but worry that the worst of their dwarvish manners would come out—especially if there would be never-empty tankards at hand.

As the five road into the courtyard, they could smell roast chicken and warm bread, the scents making their stomachs growl in hunger. From inside the building, they could hear laughter and, through a window, could see that there was a decent amount of people already dining in the common room.

“The food smells even better than last time,” Ori chirped. Dismounting his pony, he pushed his hood up and out of his face once more. He looked at his companions, watching as they dismounted and also fought with their wet clothes a bit.

“Good evenin’, masters!” A young man came out of a building to their right, holding an oilskin cloak over himself as he counted the number of ponies. “Five ponies is it? Bring ‘em on in; there’s plenty o’ room for them tonight!”

Dori turned to the others. “Don’t worry about the ponies—I’ll take care of them. Nori, you make sure to get us a room or two. Ori, if I’m not back by the time our orders are taken, I’ll have my usual.” As his brothers nodded in understanding, he took the reins to their ponies while calling out for the other two to follow. Surprisingly, they obeyed and walked alongside the others.

The rest of the dwarves, meanwhile, hurried to the doorstep of the inn. There, they did their best to wring out as much water from their clothes as possible. Thankfully, the doorway was covered, making it so their efforts weren’t in vain.

Entering the inn, they were greeted by a blast of warm air that smelled even stronger of fresh bread and roast chicken. Their stomachs started to growl; they had eaten before they set out from Erebor, but that had been nearly two hours ago now.

“Ah! Good evenin’ t’ ya, Masters Nori, Ori, an’ friends!” They looked over at the bar where a giant of a man was using a white rag to clean out a wooden tankard. Covering the lower half of his face was a large, ashy-brown beard that could have made any dwarf proud. “What can I get for ya?”

“Evenin’, Master Warren,” Nori grinned. He led the other three towards the man. “We need room enough for five of us dwarves, as well as some warm food in our bellies.”

Warren nodded, setting down the rag and tankard in favor of opening a large book. “An’ how long is it that you’ll be wantin’ t’ stay?” he questioned, looking over the room availability.

“Two weeks, if that’s alright.”

“Aye, that’s quite doable!”

As Nori hashed out the details of their stay with the innkeeper, Bifur and Bofur looked around at the tables. Being a city of Men, the tables were filled with humans chatting away while they ate and drank. They could see that the hostesses were made up of three women: A tall, blonde-haired woman who had some years under her belt; a woman in her early twenties with bouncy, jet-black curls; and a rather short woman in her mid-to-late-twenties. Bifur wondered if she was related to the innkeeper, as her hair was almost the same color as his—it was just a bit lighter.

“Baylee!” Warren suddenly called out, startling Bifur and Bofur. “When you’re done there, lass, come show these lads t’ a table!”

“Aye, be just a tick!” the shorter woman called as she set down plates of food.

The innkeeper looked back down at the dwarves. “I’ll have one of the lasses get your rooms ready an’ show ‘em to ya when she’s done, alright? I’m afraid it may be a bit, though—as ya can see, it’s a touch on the busy side.”

“Ah, that’s alright. I’m sure we’ll be too busy stuffin’ our faces with food t’ notice the time passin’ by,” Bofur chirped as he hooked a thumb in his belt. He glanced over at the door as it opened and in came Dori, his clothes wrinkled in the places where he had tried to wring them out. “That was fast,” he commented as the silver-haired dwarf came over to them.

“Yes, that stable lad is good and fast when it came to stabling the ponies,” he chuckled. “Nori, did you get us some rooms?”

He nodded. “Aye, two rooms. Bifur and Bofur in one, an’ us three in the other,” he explained. “I put us down for two weeks, but Warren said it’ll be alright if we need to extend our stay.”

“Good, good…And, from the smells of it, they’ve got plenty of food to go around,” Dori sighed. He tried to smooth the wrinkles out of the front of his tunic, but it was to no avail.

It was then Baylee, the shortest of the three women, came over, a pair of large, circular trays tucked under her arm and her cheeks slightly flushed from having been running around, serving people. “Sorry ‘bout that wait, lads,” she apologized, brushing some hair from her forehead. “Ah! Masters Dori, Nori, an’ Ori! Good t’ be seein’ ya again,” she smiled. Bofur and Bifur were more than a little surprised to see that she was only a few inches taller than them. “I see you’ve brought some friends o’ yours this time around.”

“Bofur an’ Bifur at your service,” the two chorused as they bowed.

“An’ Baylee Braddock at yours,” she replied, giving a small curtsy. “Let’s get ya soakin’ wet lads over by the fire, aye? You’ve got t’ be chilled t’ the bone by now.” She turned, moving to lead them across the room and towards the enormous fireplace.

Near to it, but not close enough to leave them scorching hot, was a rectangular table; it was a little lower than the others from what they could see, and for that they were a bit grateful. Usually, the chairs and stools in human establishments were a bit too tall for dwarven folk, so to have some dwarf-sized furniture was a pleasant surprise. The dwarves then removed their cloaks and coats, draping them over the backs of chairs or setting them on the hearth to dry. Bofur, however, kept his hat on.

Once they were all settled, Dori let out a content sigh. “What do you have on tap and on the menu for tonight, Miss Baylee?” he asked.

“For drinks, we’ve got the usuals o’ beer, ale, an’ wine, but since it’s been so cold the past few days, we’ve also got some mulled wine an’ warm, spiced cider,” she answered. “As for food tonight, it’s a choice between ham an’ potato stew or roast chicken. There are also fresh rolls, sausages, baked vegetables, pan-roasted vegetables, cheeses…” Her eyes squinted slightly and she glanced towards the ceiling for a few seconds as she tried to remember if there was anything she may have forgotten. Deciding there wasn’t, she smiled at them. “An’ if there’s anythin’ else you’re wantin’, we’ll do our best t’ provide it.”

“I don’t know ‘bout my companions, but I’ll take a nice mug o’ beer,” Bofur said with a wide grin, “as well as a bowl of that stew, some rolls, an’ some sausages.” As he rested his arms on the tabletop, he was a bit surprised by the craftsmanship of the furniture: There was no wobbling to either his chair or the table and the decorative patterns carved into the table’s edge were well defined; it was obvious to tell that they were little pinecones.

Dori held his hand up slightly, motioning that he was next. “A mug of your warm cider, a bowl of stew, some rolls, and a bit of cheese if you would.”

“Ale, baked vegetables, an’ chicken for me, please,” Nori said.

“I’d like a beer, rolls, a plate o’ sausages, and chicken please an’ thank you,” Bifur grinned.

Ori’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I’d like a bit of mulled wine,” he began, “as well as some stew, cheese, and some baked vegetables for me, too, please.”

“Still no green veggies, though, aye?” Baylee questioned. When Ori nodded, she chuckled. “Alright then. It may take a few minutes t’ get your orders together, but I’ll have it out as soon as possible. Your drinks, though, I promise will be here in just a few minutes.”

As she walked off, Dori leaned back in his seat, sighing in content. From inside his tunic, he produced a long-stemmed pipe and an oilskin pouch of pipe weed. “Soon, lads, we’ll be having ourselves a miniature feast and you’ll see just how good some humans can cook.” Opening the pouch, he brought out a bit of the pipe weed and tucked it into the bowl of his pipe.

“I hope so—I’m starvin’,” Bifur chuckled. He pulled out his own pipe and pouch of tobacco. “An’ the smell of this place isn’t making me any less hungry, either. I can only hope the food tastes as good as it smells.” Once he had filled his pipe, he offered his tobacco pouch to Bofur who, yes, also brought out a pipe. He declined it, though, so Bifur tucked it away again.

Nori grinned, his braided-eyebrow rising. “When has something smelled good, but tasted bad?” he questioned, bringing out his own pipe. Unlike Dori, though, he didn’t have his own pouch of tobacco; as such, he reached over and plucked Dori’s right from his hand.

Ori, who wasn’t going to partake in smoking like the rest of them, looked around the common room. The last time he and his brothers had been there, it had been packed with people for the Yuletide feast. Now, though, he could actually see all the way to other end of the room. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and, looking over, he saw Baylee returning with their drinks.

“Here ya go, lads,” she smiled, starting to set their drinks down. “Two beers, an ale, a warm cider, an’ a bit o’ mulled wine.” Tucking the now-empty tray under her arm again, she blew a lock of hair from her face. “Would you lads like t’ have the rolls an’ cheese out now t’ tide ya over while the rest cooks?”

Bofur shook his head, answering for the group. “No, thank you, miss. We can wait for the full meal.”

She chuckled. “Alright. If ya change your minds, just give a holler, aye?” She gave them a small smile before going off to tend to another table.

“Now this is some good beer.” As Bifur set his tankard down, he sucked the foam out of his mustache. “Haven’t had that good o’ beer since we were back home in the Blue Mountains.”

“Balin an’ Dwalin said that the people o’ Dale have always been good at making beer,” Nori commented.

Ori’s brow rose slightly. “But these people are from Laketown, _not_ Dale.”

Dori wiggled a finger at him as a bit of smoke puffed out of his nose. “Now remember, Ori, a fair number of people from Laketown can trace their lineage to those survivors who fled Dale.” He took in another breath of smoke from his pipe before slowly exhaling. “It’d make sense that they brought their brewin’ secrets to Laketown with them.” Reaching down, he plucked up his tankard of spiced cider and took a small sip from it. “Mm…they’ve good cider, too.” His brow rose as he watched Nori blow a smoke ring across the table. Before it could dissipate, he sent his own, smaller smoke ring through it.

“Cider’s good sometimes,” Bofur chuckled, “but the rest o’ the times, ya can’t beat a nice, foamin’ mug o’ beer.” He raised his tankard slightly to the others before taking a drink. “Wine, though…? Don’t know how ya can still drink the stuff, Ori. After ridin’ in those barrels back in Mirkwood, I can’t stand it. It’s the only kind o’ alcohol I _won’t_ drink.”

“Which is sayin’ something coming from the mouth of Bofur,” Bifur snorted, “being that the main reason he joined the Company was because he heard there’d be free drinks.”

At that, Bofur pouted slightly. “Hey, now—I heard about that _after_ I signed my contract. It’s Bombur who had to be lured into joinin’ with the idea o’ free food.”

“Well, he did have six dwarrowlings at home,” Ori reminded him. “He’s the only one of us who has a family he needed to think of.” He took a small sip of his mulled wine, enjoying how the mixture of warmth and spices helped to chase the cold away. He usually wasn’t one for wine, but he did fancy a cup of it once in a great while. “Have he and Gerdi got any idea on if it’ll be a girl or boy?” he then asked.

Bifur and Bofur shook their heads. “They prefer leaving it a surprise,” Bifur answered. “Though, after havin’ two girls in a row, they’re fairly certain it’ll be another boy.”

“Now that you’ve said that, I’ll wager ten gold pieces that it’s a girl,” Nori smirked. Grabbing his ale, he took a long drink from it.

Bofur shook his head as he quietly laughed. “Ah, that’s not a wager I’ll be willin’ t’ make,” he admitted. “Mahal blessed Bombur by givin’ him two wee lasses—if he were t’ have a third, I’d be questionin’ whether or not my own brother is Mahal incarnate.”

At that, the others laughed. “Come now, Bofur—Mahal wouldn’t want to be in a body like Bombur’s for a mortal’s lifetime,” Dori snickered. “He’d be a mighty warrior like Thorin or Dwalin.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Bifur grinned. “For all we know, he could be wee lil’ Ori over there!” He took a drink from his beer before taking a puff of his pipe.

Ori felt his cheeks grow pink. “U-uh, I don’t think Mahal would take on a form like mine, either,” he stammered, unconsciously fiddling with his gloves. “He wouldn’t want to be a scholar—he’s a creator, after all. He’d be some sort of smith.”

Bofur shrugged, but wore a reassuring smile. “I don’t know—scholar create things, don’t they? They create great big compendiums on history or types o’ rocks or types o’ gems…Or they could be the type o’ scholar who ends up weavin’ new fairytales from the histories they’ve learned.” As he spoke, smoke furled out of his mouth and wafted past the youngest Ri brother; it brought with it the delicate scent of cherries.

“Frankly, I don’t think Mahal would waste his time comin’ to Middle Earth,” Nori stated. “He’s too busy makin’ things for the other Valar. If ever he came to Middle Earth, it’d probably be because one of the Seven Lords messed up _big_ time and he’d need t’ knock some sense into them.”

“If that were the case, then the knuckle-headed Ironfist clan would be a bit smarter, don’t you think?” Bifur joked, making the others crack up. “Or maybe he would see how much of a blight they are an’ simply wiped ‘em out?”

Dori did his best to give him a bit of a scolding look, though his laughter made him fail. “Now, now—not _all_ Ironfists are horrible dwarrows,” he countered. “I used to have Ironfist contacts in the east who I did business with—spices, we traded. Sadly, it seems that family has died out, though, so I’ve had to switch over to a Blacklock family. I pay a bit steeper of a price, but the quality’s still there.”

“So _that’s_ why you charge so much for the cinnamon, ginseng, an’ pink peppercorns,” Bofur chuckled. “I always wondered why those were so much more expensive than some o’ your other wares.”

“I have to make a profit _somehow,_ Bofur.” He glanced over at the doorway to the kitchen, just in time to see Baylee and the older woman, who he knew to be her Aunt Demelza, approaching. Both were carrying two serving trays absolutely filled with food. “Ah, it looks like dinner’s here, lads,” he said with a broad smile.

The dwarves quickly cleared the table of their tobacco pouches as the women started to place their food.

“Sausages for those two,” Baylee told her aunt, nodding at Bofur and Bifur while placing plates of chicken in front of Nori and Bifur. “Dori and Ori get the cheese.” She set a large bowl of rolls in the center of the table. “Hope ya lads don’t mind sharin’ these from the same bowl.”

“Not at all!” Dori assured her.

“It just leaves room for more food,” Bofur joked.

“Which ones get the vegetables and the stews, Baylee?” Demelza asked, chuckling at Bofur’s comment.

“Nori an’ Ori get the veggies while Dori, Ori, and…” She paused for a second, looking at Bofur as she did her best to recollect whether he was Bifur or Bofur. “…Bifur?” she incorrectly guessed.

“Close,” Bofur chuckled. He then pointed at his cousin. “That one’s Bifur. I’m Bofur. Can’t say I blame you, though—Look at all the food you had t’ remember!” He grinned as he looked down at the bowl of stew Demelza set before him. It was larger than he was expecting, and seemed to have plenty of ham pieces in it.

Taking the second serving tray from her aunt, she watched as Demelza excused herself to hurry off back to the kitchen. “Ah, I’ll have ya lads memorized by morning,” Baylee chuckled, brushing some hair from her face. “Do any o’ ya need refills on your drinks?” She was a little surprised when the unanimous answer was ‘not quite yet’. “Alright then. Just give a holler if ya need anything.” She tucked both trays under her arm and started to head back to the kitchen.

‘I wonder if all of their meals are going to be that big?’ she thought to herself. As Wenna came hurrying out of the kitchen, she weaved around her and chuckled quietly. “Steady there, Wenna—you’re goin’ t’ spill the stew all over that tray!”

She pouted slightly. “I’m tryin’ my best,” she told her. “I don’t know how you can get things t’ the tables without spillin’ a drop.” Having started work at the inn only recently, she was still finding it quite difficult to serve anything liquid without sloshing it around.

“The trick is t’ _not_ look at the dishes—look at the table you’re headin’ to,” she explained. “I’m not sure why it is, but that’s what auntie an’ my mum taught me an’ Will when we were younger. Give it some practice and you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Oh—An’ _don’t_ take short steps. Take longer ones; it helps ya move more fluidly.”

Nodding, Wenna sighed. “I’ll do my best t’ remember. Thanks, ‘Lee.”

Baylee chuckled. “Now ya best get that stew over t’ Bert. He’s pretty hungry tonight.” She rolled her eyes, but still wore a smile as Wenna turned and started to hurry off only to remember her advice halfway. ‘She’ll get the hang of it soon enough,’ she thought.

Entering the kitchen, she was greeted by the smells of various food cooking and the sight of Galiene, the cook, stirring the cauldron of soup. Where her aunt had run off to, she wasn’t sure—maybe up readying the rooms for the dwarves? Setting the trays on the counter, she moved to grab a thick dishtowel.

“How’s it going out there, lassie?” Galiene asked. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Baylee ducking down as she opened the oven door, letting the initial burst of heat fly over her head.

“It’s startin’ to quiet down, thankfully.” She grabbed a wooden peel and used it to retrieve the last three loaves of bread from the depths of the oven. “How many roast chickens are left?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the cook.

“Two, but one is being saved for your father. Would you like me t’ save you the other or…?”

“No, thank-you. I’ll have a bit o’ stew in a little while.” Using the flat of the peel, she closed the oven door before using the dishtowel to close the latch. “I take it auntie’s up preparin’ the rooms?”

Nodding, Galiene slathered a roll with some butter before leaning against the counter. “Aye, she is. Your da’ said they were for a group o’ dwarves, but I didn’t believe him until that massive food order came in.” She chuckled took a bite of the roll. “Thank goodness I’ve got Gawen here to help me now. There’s not nearly as much chaos on busy nights with him helpin’ out.”

Baylee nodded in agreement as she hopped onto a clear bit of counter. “I’m just surprised a lad like him wanted t’ come cook for us,” she admitted. Grabbing a wooden cup from the shelf, she turned around and slid back to the floor. “Normally, a lad his age is wanting to learn a different sort o’ trade—like woodworking or blacksmithing.” She brushed a bit of flour from her dress before going to the stove.

“Ah, he’s always been a bit of a strange lad, but the good sort of strange.” The door to the kitchen opened and a young man in his late teens came waddling in, two large buckets of water in his hands. He bore a strong resemblance to Galiene, sharing the same brunette hair and almond-shaped eyes.

“Who’s the good sort o’ strange?” he asked, using his foot to close the door behind him.

“You,” Baylee answered, filling her cup with spiced cider. “I was just tellin’ Galiene how it’s strange that ya wanted to be her apprentice instead o’ learning some other trade.”

A cheeky grin came to his face. “Why would I want a different trade when, as a cook, I get t’ eat all day?” He set one of the buckets on the floor near the pantry door before carrying the other to a small counter in the corner. “And it’s my aunt’s cooking, no less, so it’s even better!”

“Careful, lad,” Baylee joked, “she may put ya on hostin’ duties now. Then you won’t have much time to eat.”

Galiene nodded in agreement. “He may yet have t’ go on hostin’ duty if we get massively busy night.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “How massive is massively busy?” he asked, a bit of caution in his voice.

“The sort o’ busy where Baylee’s havin’ to balance a tray on her head as well as two on her hands.” She took another bite of the roll, exhaling through her nose. “Those are the nights you’ll come t’ dislike. So many orders, you can hardly keep up…But, the end pay is worth it.”

Gawen’s head tilted ever so slightly. “Wait…” He looked at Baylee. “You can balance a tray on your _head_?”

Baylee nodded before taking a sip of the cider. “I don’t like to, but I can. An’ before ya ask, I _usually_ avoid the fully-loaded trays.” She took another, longer drink.

“Why don’t you like it?”

“Well, for one, it’s a wee bit dangerous, given I’m walking around with a tray of food atop my head,” she laughed. “Secondly, havin’ that much weight up there hurts after a while. You try having—” She was interrupted by a round of cheers from the common room; leaning forward slightly, she tried to peer past the doorway but it was to no avail.

“Sounds like those dwarves are enjoying themselves,” Galiene chuckled, her brow rising. “I just hope they’re not making much o’ a mess.”

“I’ll go check on them,” Baylee said. As she quickly drained her cup of the rest of its contents, another cheer arose from the common room. Snatching up a serving tray, she headed out there only to find Nori standing nearly ten feet away from the table, half a sausage in hand.

“You won’t be able t’ get it in his mouth from there,” an old man, Bill, laughed. “Yeh were lucky enough t’ get it in his mouth from just five feet away!”

There was a grin on Nori’s face as he glanced over at the human. “Five coppers says I _can,”_ he replied. He was fully aware of the look of embarrassment on Dori’s face, but chose to ignore it.

Bill chuckled, his brow raised. “Alright then. I’ll take that wager.” He glanced around as he heard a couple of the other men start placing their own wagers.

Taking careful aim, Nori threw the sausage and watched as it sailed through the air. He had been aiming for Bofur’s mouth, but it looked like he might’ve aimed a bit too high. Bofur leaned back in an attempt to still catch the sausage, but he leaned so far back, he fell off the stool, bringing about a round of laughter.

But then he popped back up, the sausage in his mouth and his arms thrown up in victory. The common room burst out into cheers once more. Nori walked over to the old man in order to collected his earnings.

“So _that’s_ why it got loud all o’ a sudden,” Baylee chuckled, her brow rising as she approached the table.

“I apologize for the disturbance, Miss Braddock,” Dori said quickly, his voice filled with embarrassment. “I promise you, my brother and his friends are normally better behaved than this.”

“It’s alright, Master Dori,” she assured him, a smile on her lips. “It was a bit too quiet in here anyway.” She looked at their plates and bowls, seeing that a good portion of the food was gone—and that their drinks were getting low. “Can I get any o’ you a refill? Or maybe a wee bit more food?”

Ori, who had been in the middle of finishing off his wine, sheepishly held his cup out. “A drink refill would be lovely, miss,” he said before adding, “please and thank you.”

Taking his cup, Baylee set it on her tray. “Anyone else?” It didn’t surprise her when all five of them requested refills.

“Could we also get more rolls, please?” Bifur asked as he handed her his tankard. “They went faster than we expected.”

“Of course ya can,” she replied, smiling as she took the empty drinking vessels from them. She then grabbed the empty roll bowl, setting it in the middle of her tray.

“An’ is there any of that stew left?” Bofur questioned. “Because I’d like a second bowl o’ that if there is.”

“Oh, yes, another bowl for me, too, please,” Dori agreed with a nod.

“Two stews an’ some rolls? Aye, I can do that.” As the bowls were handed to her, she added them to the tray. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked over at the stairs to see Wenna and Demelza coming down. “Ah, it looks like your rooms are all ready for you, lads.”

Wenna nodded, brushing some curls from her face. “Aye, that they are,” she said with a tired smile. “If one or two of you would like t’ follow me, I can show you where you’ll be staying.”

Bofur and Dori rose from their seats so they could follow after her. Before Bofur took two steps, however, he turned around and pointed a stern finger at those remaining seated. “No stealin’ my sausages,” he told them. Then, turning back around, he hurried after Wenna and Dori.

Bifur, of course, reached over and stole one the second his cousin had turned his back, earning a small giggle from Baylee, who then left to go refill their drinks. As she walked past the table where Bill and another elderly man were sitting, she was stopped, however.

“Baylee, lass,” the second old man said, “is there any stew left?”

“Aye, there’s plenty left,” she answered, her brow rising. “But you’ve had two bowls already—are ya _sure_ ya want a third, Abbot?”

“O’ course I do, lassie!” he chuckled. “Galiene makes the best soups in the whole city! In fact, she made the best soups in the whole of Laketown, too. I could eat ten bowls of the stuff if I could!”

Bill shook his head as he laughed. “You’re goin’ to eat yourself sick again, ya old coot. Stop while you’re ahead!” He looked up at Baylee, half sighing, half laughing. “I don’t suppose you’ve any pies left? Or maybe some of those little fruit cakes?”

A small frown came to her lips as she shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not,” she replied. “We’re waiting on the traders t’ get back from Dorwinion so I can get back to makin’ those. We do have some honey cakes and seed cakes, though, if you’d like one o’ those instead.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, a small sigh leaving his mouth. “I thought that may have been the case…I hope those lads return soon—an’ safely—because I certainly am missin’ that bread.” He then chuckled. “But, for now, I’ll take two honey cakes.”

“Two honey cakes, coming right up,” she smiled before looking at Abbot. “An’ were ya sure you wanted a third bowl o’ the stew?” From the the corner of her eye, she could see her aunt cleaned a table of its contents.

With a sheepish smile, he held his bowl up to her. “If you’d be so kind, lassie. An’ take your time—we know you’ve got other customers t’ deal with.”

Taking the bowl, she set it on the tray. “Be back in a jiffy,” she smiled before walking off. She headed into the kitchen, setting the platter down before rearranging its contents a bit. Making sure to keep Abbot’s bowl away from Bofur and Dori’s bowls, she blew a lock of hair from her face and grabbed a ladle. She used it to fill the three bowls up nearly to the brim.

“So _you’re_ the reason this stew is going faster than expected,” Galiene chuckled as she walked over. “I don’t normally fill the bowls up that much—mostly for your sake, mind you. I don’t want ya slopping it all over the place.”

Baylee handed her the bowl that had once held some rolls. “Could ya fill this up with rolls, please?” she asked. “An’ ya don’t have to worry about me spilling anything; auntie an’ mum taught me how t’ carry trays without spilling anything, remember?” Once the bowls were refilled, she grabbed Ori’s cup and refilled it with the warm, mulled wine. After that, Dori’s cup was refilled with the spiced cider.

“That may be so, but you never know when you’ll trip or have to make a sudden movement to avoid runnin’ into someone.” She heaped the bowl with rolls, many of them still warm thanks to resting near the oven. “Anything else, lass?”

“Two honey cakes, please. An’ I know, but for the most part, I’m fairly good ‘bout not spilling.” Taking the bowl of rolls, she placed it in the center of the tray. “It’s Wenna you’ve got t’ worry about.” She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Gawen in the corner, washing dishes, while his aunt grabbed the honey cakes.

“She’s learning, though, and she’s learning fast,” Galiene said. “Which is fairly good, considerin’ that she only just started two months ago.”

Baylee nodded in agreement. “Aye. She’ll get the hang o’ it soon enough.” Thanking the cook as she was handed the small plate of honey cakes, she lifted the platter and left the kitchen. She went over to the bar and made quick work of refilling the rest of the empty tankards before heading back out onto the floor.

“Two honey cakes and a third bowl o’ stew,” she chirped, setting Bill and Abbot’s orders down in front of them. “Anything else, sirs?”

“This should be good for now,” Abbot told her. “Thank you, ‘Lee.” As he started to eat, she walked off to deliver the dwarves their drinks.

“Here you go, lads,” she said upon reaching their table. She started to set their drinks down. “So, may I inquire as t’ what brings you all t’ Dale?” Despite the close proximity to Erebor, it wasn’t too common for groups of dwarves to come to the city just yet—they normally came alone or in pairs.

Ori took a drink of his wine. “My brothers an’ I are following up on some leads for potential business partners,” he explained, “while Bifur an’ Bofur are here to scout out locations for a toy shop.”

At that, she perked. “A toy shop?” she repeated, and, seeing Bifur nod, her grin grew a bit. “Oh, that’ll make all the children happy—there isn’t one here yet, so the woodworkers guild has been trying to make toys for the tots. While their hearts are in the right places…they’re not the best at makin’ toys.”

“Well, hopefully that won’t last much longer,” Bifur smiled. “Bofur and I have quite the stockpile saved up from the last eight years. We just need to find the right location.”

She thought for a moment. “I know most o’ the shops in the marketplace have been taken up already,” she told him, “but there are a couple o’ buildings on main street that haven’t been claimed yet. I’m afraid they also haven’t been cleaned up just yet, so if ya do go for one of those, you might have t’ do some handiwork.”

“That’s fine by us. We had a feeling we’d have t’ do some renovation an’ restoring when we discussed opening a shop,” he explained. “But thank you muchly for the information ‘bout the main street shops! I’m sure it’ll come in quite handy when we start lookin’.”

“You don’t happen to know anythin’ about the Lightfoot family, would you?” Nori then asked. “They’re one o’ our potential partners.”

“Oh, aye! The Lightfoot family is actually good friends o’ ours,” she replied with a smile, tucking her now-empty tray under arm. “We get a lot o’ our imported goods through them. I don’t know quite as much ‘bout the business side o’ things as my da’, but I do know enough that they’re quite fair when it comes to makin’ deals.”

“Talking business are you?” Dori sat down in his chair, Bofur soon following suit.

Nori shrugged. “Was just asking Miss Baylee if she knew about the Lightfoot family. Apparently, they’re quite good.”

Baylee nodded. “If you’d like t’ know more about their business practices, you’ll have t’ ask my da’. He’s the one who—”

“Oi! Which one o’ you cads ate my sausages!?” Bofur suddenly interjected. He had left a neat stack of three sausages on his plate, but now, only half of one remained. Holding up the last bit of sausage, he half-pouted, half-glared at his companions.

Nori, Ori, and Bifur all pointed at one another, their eyes wide. “Wasn’t me!” one of them defended.

“It was him!”

“Was not, you buffoon! It was him that ate ‘em!”

“Not me! _Not_ me!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers~! I'm so happy you guys enjoyed the first chapter; I was honestly a bit nervous you'd find it to be too similar to the original and get bored xD So to hear that you all liked it was quite a relief!

It was the smell of bacon that woke Bofur up.

There he was, fast asleep and having a most pleasant dream of drinking hearty dwarven ale in his home back in Erebor when the smell of cooking meats started to overwhelm his senses. But, for the life of him, he was not able to figure out where the smells were coming from! He had gotten up from his stool and looked all over his home—in the kitchen, in the parlor, upstairs in his room, the bathroom even! And still, he could not find the source of that smell!

Suddenly, his stomach rumbled quite loudly and, as he rounded a corner in his home, he suddenly felt like he was falling. As he landed on something hard—thankfully, nothing _too_ hard—he woke up.

Opening his eyes, he found himself looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His brows furrowed and he bolted upright, having temporarily forgotten where he was until he looked around. Across from him, Bifur was fast asleep and snoring quietly. Finally remembering that he was staying in an inn, he let out a relieved sigh, allowing himself to flop backwards again.

‘That’s right,’ he thought to himself, ‘we’re at an inn…and I seem to have fallen out of bed.’

It was then that he realized the source of the smell was coming from somewhere close by. Sniffing the air, he turned his head and found that the scent was quite strong down there on the floor.

‘Aha! We must be over the kitchen,’ he thought with a small grin. Rolling over, he flicked one of his braids out of the way before pressing his ear to the floor. Through the wood, he was able to hear the faint sizzling of meat and muffled voices. One of them was that of a man, the other, a girl. ‘Maybe the inn-owner and that Miss Baylee?’ he thought, his brow rising.

“…What are you doing?”

He looked up, more than a little startled to find Bifur’s face less than three inches from his. How he had not heard his cousin slip out of bed, he would never know. “Uh…just doin’ some mornin’ stretching is all,” he lied. “Y’know, so I have more room in my belly for breakfast!”

Bifur’s brow rose. “Now _that_ I highly doubt” he mused, standing upright.

Bofur stood up as well, brushing himself off. Not that there was any dirt on him to begin with; the floors were very clean. “Of course you doubt me,” he said, putting on a mock air of hurt. “You’ve never done it! You don’t know how much more food I can take in because of these stretches I do.” He started to pull on his tunic and trousers over his underclothes. “Now, how did you sleep?”

“I slept fairly well,” he replied, also starting to get dressed. “You, cousin?”

“Slept rather decently myself,” he replied, tying his trousers into place.

Bifur pulled his trousers on and yawned. “I have to admit, these beds are comfier than the ones we have back in Erebor…”

“That they are,” he chuckled, sitting down and tugging on his boots. “But, these beds are made from wood and ropes—ours are made out of stone. Even the softest of mattresses can get a bit uncomfortable after a while from laying atop stone.” As he glanced over at Bifur, he saw that his cousin already had his boots tugged on and was working on tying up his tunic. “I’d say we might be able to buy a couple of extra mattresses while we’re here, but I’m not sure when we’ll be going back to Erebor…”

“What would we do with them anyway?” he chuckled, his brow rising. “Use them to sleep on the floor?”

At that, Bofur snorted. “Mahal’s beard, no! We’d stack ‘em on top of our current mattresses so there’d be extra padding between us and the stone.

Bifur paused, a bit of a contemplative look on his face. “You know…that’s actually not that bad of an idea, cousin.” Fully dressed now, he went over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room, where there was a mirror hanging on the wall—an unusual bit of decoration for an inn, but a welcome one. He started to use his fingers to comb through his hair.

“Isn’t it? It’s one I’ve had for a few months now, but I never quite got around to making it a reality.” Grabbing his hat, Bofur pulled it down over his head; thanks to his hat, he could go a couple of days without needing to comb his hair.

“Well, if we get a shop here, we’ll have to move here,” Bifur told him. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to make a two hour trip every morning and night from Erebor. And since we’ll be living here, that means we’ll get man-made beds, which are the kind like these.” He motioned towards the beds they had just slept in.

Bofur nodded in agreement. “Aye, we won’t have t’ worry much about extra padding here,” he chuckled. As his cousin walked away from the mirror, he turned and headed for the door. Leading them out of their room and down the short hallway, they found the smells of breakfast cooking to be even stronger. They were able to smell the warm, yeasty scent of bread baking and could hear the sound of eggs sizzling away.

Walking over to the railing, the two dwarves stood on their tiptoes as they peered over it and down into the common room below. Dori, Nori, and Ori were already awake and sitting at the same table as the night before. Only two humans were in the room, one of them being Demelza and the other being the young lad from the stables.

“Well, looks like they haven’t started without us,” Bofur murmured more to himself than to Bifur.

“We best hurry before that changes,” Bifur agreed. He then nodded his head at the stairs and the two hurried over to them. If anyone had seen them coming down, they would have thought them children if it weren’t for their beards.

Nori looked up from filling his pipe as the two approached. “There are the two sleepyheads,” he said with a chuckle.

“It’s about time! We were starting to wonder if you two were ever going t’ wake up or if we were going t’ have to send Ori up there to wake you,” Dori grinned as they sat down. He took a drink from something in a small, clay cup –tea, Bofur supposed, since it was steaming- before leaning back in his seat. “I already ordered our meal,” he told them. “Fried eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits—the usual.”

Starting to comb his fingers through his beard, Bifur gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

Bofur yawned again, leaning back a little bit on his stool. Admittedly, he could have slept another hour or so, but that was probably the beer from last night talking. Hearing a laugh come from the kitchen, he looked up to see Baylee coming towards them with two trays heaped with food. As she walked towards them, he noticed that she didn’t seem to have any problem carrying the platters, as heavy as they must have been.

“I see the other two masters are up now,” she chuckled. Standing on one foot while the other tugged over a stool, she set one of the platters down atop it before starting to dole out the dishes on the other. “Would either o’ ya like some tea or cider with your breakfast?” She set a large plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Dori while another plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, ham, and biscuits was set in front of Nori. Ori got himself a large bowl of porridge, a smaller bowl of honey, and a small pitcher of cream put in front of him along with a little plate of two fried eggs.

“Tea for me, please,” Bofur said with a smile. He watched as she switched over to the other tray now and brought over a plate of sausages, biscuits, gravy, and ham. “Ooh, that looks and smells mighty delicious,” he grinned when it was placed in front of him.

“I’ll have some cider, please,” Bifur said. He, too, grinned as a plate was placed in front of him. His had bacon, fried eggs, biscuits, gravy, and a slice of ham.

She nodded in understanding before moving to collect the other empty tray. “And what of you, Masters Ri? Do any of you need refills yet?”

Dori, who had been in the middle of finishing his tea, nodded. “Yes, please, Miss Baylee—and, actually, if you’d be so kind, could we have a teapot brought out?”

“Aye, of course,” she smiled. “Would you like the same tea or a different blend?”

“The same, please. It’s quite delicious. Do you happen to know the name of the blend?”

She shook her head. “Not off the top o’ my head, no, but I can easily find out for you.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” As he moved to start eating his eggs, she walked off.

Entering the kitchen, she went over to the stove grate to see if the jar of tea was still there. To her luck, it was.

Galiene glanced over at her as she stirred some porridge around; her brow rose slightly as she saw the younger woman slowly mouthing the words on the label. “What’re you doin’, lass?” she asked.

“Master Dori was wanting to know what kind o’ tea this is,” she replied, her brows furrowed in concentration. She leaned over, pointing at one of the words on the label. “I know these say ‘rainy’ and ‘day’, but what does this one say?”

“That says ‘chamomile’.” She watched as Baylee frowned; she knew Baylee had always had issues with reading and it was a bit of a sore spot for her. “Aye, it looks like it should be said ‘ch-amomile’, but that’s Westron for ya.”

Baylee’s nose scrunched up slightly and her cheeks flushed a bit. “That’s a dumb way of spelling it,” she murmured. Shaking her head, she went to grab a teapot so she could fill it with hot water.

At that, Galiene laughed. “Aye, I’ll agree to that, lass. Like I said, though, that’s Westron for ya. We may be fluent in speaking it, but reading it and seeing how the words are spelled is an entirely different matter.” She looked back down at the porridge before adding some sugar and salt into it. “This porridge is for you, by the way. So once you’re done tendin’ to the dwarves, it’s time for you t’ take a break. Your auntie will be in soon enough to handle the other guests.”

“Understood,” she chuckled, adding some tea leaves into the pot. She put it on a tray along with an extra tea cup as well as a tea strainer. Then, going to the oven, she peeked into it, but was confused when she saw nothing in there.

“The scones are in the large basket, stayin’ warm,” Galiene told her.

“Thank you,” she smiled. Grabbing a plate, she went over to the basket and heaped it with scones. The plate, too, joined the tray along with a dish of clotted cream and jam. Lifting it up, she headed out into the common room. While crossing the room, she glanced around. There weren’t too many guests sitting at the tables just yet, but the ones who were there had already been tended to.

“Here ya go, lads,” she chirped, approaching the table of dwarves. “Cider, tea, an’ scones.”

As they watched the plate of scones get set down, Bofur and Bifur perked. “Ooh, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good scone,” Bofur grinned.

“I take it you were feelin’ a bit fancy, Dori?” joked Bifur.

“I’ll have you know, it was _me_ who was feelin’ fancy,” Nori chuckled. “But I was feelin’ _nice_ an’ fancy, so I ordered enough for all o’ us. But I get first pick!”

Chuckling, Baylee set down the teapot as well as the strainer, jam, and clotted cream. “Before I forget, Master Dori, the name o’ the tea is ‘Rainy Day Chamomile’. We get it through the Lightfoot family, actually.” She watched as Nori reached over, grabbing two scones.

“Ooh, that’s good to know. Thank you again, Miss Baylee,” Dori smiled.

She returned the smile. “Is there anything else I can get ya?” When the dwarves declined, she told them to give a holler if they thought of anything and returned to the kitchen. The second she stepped in, the tray was taken from her hands only to be replaced with a warm bowl of porridge. As she was spun around and sent back out to the common room, she had just enough time to see that it was Demelza who had handed her the bowl and spun her around.

“Off you go lass—time t’ finally get some breakfast in your belly.”

“Th-thank you, auntie,” she stammered, more than a little surprised by what just happened. With little choice left to her, she moved to go sit at a small, two-person table near the window. Stirring her porridge around, she smiled when she saw that Galiene had added in a bit of jam to give it more flavor. She lifted a spoonful from the bowl and gently blew on it to help it cool down.

Distracted by her breakfast, she failed to notice the figure approaching her—an impressive feat, given his size. So when he sat down across from her and set his own bowl of porridge and a mug of tea down, Baylee squeaked in surprise.

“Papa, don’t startle me like that,” she scolded.

He quietly laughed, his brow rising. “Sorry, lass. I didn’t mean to startle you. Though, normally, it’s _you_ who sneaks up on me.” He slid the mug of tea towards her. “For you, by the way. Your auntie forgot to hand it off to ya.”

“Thank you.” After taking another bite of porridge, she lifted the mug and sniffed it; it was a different tea than the Rainy Day Chamomile and it had hints of lemon to it. Smiling, she took a small sip, not wanting to burn herself.

“Did you have any plans for the day?” Warren asked after she set the mug down. He shoved a large spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“Aside from doin’ the usual wandering around the inn? Not really, no. Why?”

Reaching into his pocket, Warren pulled out a rather full coin purse. “First, I need ya to go to Bert’s an’ place our usual order. He’ll be paid on delivery, o’ course.” He dropped the coin purse on the table in front of his daughter, not surprised by the loud ‘plunk’ sound it made. “After that, I need ya t’ go to the seamstress’ and get fitted for some new clothes.”

At that, her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with what I’ve got now?” she asked.

“’Lee, most of your clothes are damn near close to being threadbare,” he told her, his brow rising once more. “And it doesn’t help you keep wearing the same three overdresses. I’m actually surprised Primrose hasn’t dragged you off to get fitted herself…”

Her cheeks began to grow warm and she poked her spoon around in her bowl. “She’s tried,” she admitted, “but she tried to take me to _her_ seamstress who I can’t afford. Or, rather, couldn’t afford at the time.”

“Aye, well…Prim’s family has always made sure to get the best o’ the best,” he chuckled. “But, they have more of a reputation to uphold than other families. An’ we have a reputation to uphold as well—which is why I’m bringing this up. I don’t need people t’ think I’m a miser who doesn’t give his daughter spending money to buy herself candies and clothes like Mannus Stover.”

She snorted. “No one other than the old Master o’ Laketown could be as bad as him, papa. Poor Adela hasn’t had a new dress in a longer span o’ time than me!” Shaking her head, she ate some more of her breakfast. “Speakin’ of Prim an’ her family, though…Masters Ri were wondering if they could talk t’ you about who in town would be good to look into becomin’ business partners with.”

He nodded in understanding. “Alright. After we’re all done eating, I’ll go talk to them.” Taking a bite of porridge, he looked out the window only to chuckle. “Well, speak o’ the devil…”

“Hm?” She looked out of the window as well to see a young woman approaching the inn. She was dressed in fine clothes and had her dark brown hair pulled back in a braid. Glancing back at her father, her brow rose and she chuckled. “You sent for her, didn’t you?”

Warren tried his best to feign an expression of innocence. “Hm? No, never—it’s just pure coincidence that she’s here!”

“Mhm…I’m sure o’ that,” she chuckled. Turning in her seat, she was just in time to see the door open and the woman walk in. “Mornin’, Prim.”

“Good morning Baylee, Mister Braddock,” the young woman said, wearing a smile. She brought a chair over so she could sit at the table as well.

“I see papa roped you into takin’ me dress shopping.” Baylee scooted over a bit so she had more room.

At that, Primrose somewhat pouted. “I’ll have you know, no roping was needed.” Before sitting down, she took care to tuck her dress beneath her. “He merely suggested I accompany you and I agreed.”

Laughing, Baylee cocked her brow. “O’ course you did…you’ve been trying to get me into a dress shop for ages.” She took a drink of her tea.

“And rightfully so! Look at the state o’ this, Baylee.” She lifted the sleeve of her overdress; what had once been a plentiful amount of fur lining the hem was now sparse and missing clumps. “It is most definitely time t’ invest in some new clothes.” Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest and crossed her legs as well.

Her brow remaining raised, she looked across the table at Warren. “Ya do realize I’m goin’ to be gone most o’ the day now, right?” she asked him.

“Why do you think I gave you so much coin?” he snorted. He then looked at Prim, point his spoon at her matter-of-factly. “Be sure t’ get her fitted for at least two _nice_ dresses.”

“Just _how_ nice are you wanting them?” Primrose questioned, her head tilting slightly.

“One should be good enough to attend festivals an’ parties in,” he answered, “while the other should be audience-with-the-king worthy.”

With a grin on her lips, Primrose nodded. “Understood, Mister Braddock.”

Baylee looked at her father in a bored fashion. “Da’…Bard doesn’t care if we’re dressed in fine silks or if we’re wearin’ our everyday clothes,” she told him. “Or have ya forgotten that he was our best friend growin’ up?”

“Ya never know, Baylee,” Primrose chuckled. “There are other kings in Middle Earth—one of them is just an hour and a half away, as a matter of fact.”

“Still! When am I ever goin’ to meet any o’ them? I’m not exactly a member o’ Bard’s court.” She then paused, thinking for a moment. “…Does he even _have_ a proper court set up yet?”

At that, Warren and Primrose also fell quiet, their expressions turning contemplative as they thought the question over.

* * *

“So, the map says that this should be the right place…”

“Really?” Bifur looked up at the building before them and then up and down the street. “This is a really good location—why would a building, especially one of this size, not be bought up yet?”

Bofur shrugged, rolling up the map of Dale’s available real estate before tucking it into his belt. “Hard t’ say. Maybe the building’s in worse condition than all the others an’ no one wants t’ fix it up? Or maybe it’s just so big, no one can really afford it?”

Bifur’s brow rose as he looked at his cousin. “The former is more likely the case.” Sighing, he stepped forward and tried the door handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked—but as he pushed to open the door, it fell from its hinges and landed on the ground with a dull, rotten-sounding ‘thwump’. In his hand, he still held the handle.

Leaning forward, Bofur poked his head past his arm, both brows raised in surprise as he looked at the fallen door. “Well, that’s one way o’ getting into the place,” he said.

“I don’t like it.” Tossing the handle onto the floor, Bifur hesitantly stepped inside. “If the door’s rotten enough that it falls off the hinges and leaves behind its handle, then that’s a bad sign.”

“Oh, come now—let’s not be judgmental until we’ve gotten a full look at the place.” He, too, stepped inside the building and started to wander about. “For all we know, the door was just a fluke!” The first room was decently sized, but not quite big enough to hold a storefront. As he approached the far wall, he gave it a hard rap with knuckles. He heard no signs of weakness so he continued to knock along the wall at various heights. Across the room, he could hear Bifur doing the same to the other wall. “At any rate, it’s better than the last building we looked at—that had _far_ too much work that needed done.”

Bifur nodded in agreement. “Aye, it did…the whole thing needed gutted and rebuilt.” Finding his wall suitable, he went into the hallway to find a staircase leading to a second floor as well as three more rooms.

“Four rooms an’ a kitchen in total for the downstairs, eh?” Bofur had joined him in the hall. “If we take out this wall here,” he patted the wall behind them, “then we could combine these two rooms into a store front.” He walked over to the room on their right. “This could be a work room or a storage room.” Stepping in, he gave its walls the same test of knocking at various points. “The walls sound good in here, too.” Turning around, he found that his cousin had disappeared.

“The kitchen is decently sized,” Bifur called. “I daresay it’s large enough to be a kitchen _and_ a workroom.” He went over to the hearth and poked his head under the chimney. It was hard to tell if the flue was shut or open—it was pitch black up there. “We’ll also need to get a chimneysweep.” Pulling his head out of the flue, he looked around and saw three separate doorways. From where he stood, he could only tell where one of them led to thanks to its door being gone: The pantry.

“Aye, and definitely a woodworker or two,” Bofur agreed. “If we do get this building, we’ll need t’ put in a couple of windows on the front wall so the wee ones can see inside. An’ I know for a fact you know how t’ make toys, not window frames.” He chuckled as he approached the staircase.

Giving it a cautionary kick, he winced—the first step, at least, seemed to be as strong as ever. He gave the banister a shake; rather, he _tried_ to give it a shake. Finding it solid as well, he risked climbing his way to the second floor.

“The staircase is as good as ever!” he called down. As he looked around, he found the upstairs separated into three rooms and another staircase that led up to a door. “Huh,” he said more to himself than to his cousin. “The map says this one’s only two stories…”

Rather than going to inspect the other rooms, he instead went over to the second staircase. Upon giving it the same tests, he found it to be as sturdy as the first. His brow rising, he started up it.

“Let’s see where you lead to…Maybe an attic? Or maybe a secret passageway connecting you to other buildings…” Opening the door, however, revealed something much more mundane: A covered rooftop balcony. “Oh, well now isn’t this nice?” he chirped.

“What’s nice?”

Turning around, he looked down only to find Bifur coming up the first set of stairs. “We’ve got ourselves a rooftop deck,” he laughed. “Covered, too!” Stepping outside, he walked over to the railing; it was somewhat hazardous, though. Many of the tiles covering the floor were cracked and broken from the years of being exposed to the elements. He gently knocked on one of the supports for the room and frowned. “We’ll definitely need to replace this.”

“Well now, isn’t this a pretty view?” Bifur appeared beside him, a smile on his lips as he looked out over the city. “We can even see home from here.” He gestured out past Dale to the gates of Erebor. Five years ago, they had been ruined and destroyed. Now, however, they were almost entirely repaired and looked as if they had never been ravaged by a dragon. “I suppose that’s the perk to building atop hills, though.”

“We can also see the inn from here, too,” Bofur grinned. He had to stand on tiptoe to point over the edge at the Full Tankard. “Not too far away. _If_ we buy this one, we’ll be just ten or fifteen minutes from good food and beer.”

Bifur then pointed past him, further up the street to where the road opened into a wide area where colorful sheets were strung up, shielding vendors of all sorts from the elements. “Even less than that if we just want a quick bite. The market’s right there.” His brow rose as Bofur kept his hand from getting too close to the roof support.

“We’ll need to replace the roof,” he explained. “The wood’s fairly damaged, but what can you expected after a couple o’ centuries o’ being exposed to the elements? Frankly, I’m surprised it’s even still standin’ after the first attack by Smaug…” He then chuckled, looking up at the roof. “Hm. Almost looks like a bell used t’ hang here.”

“Given the size, this may have been some sort of school,” Bifur suggested. “There’s no furniture or anythin’ left to really tell us its story.”

He nodded slowly in agreement. “Aye, that’s true…Shall we go back down an’ check out the second floor’s rooms?”

“I did already. They’re good sized and in fairly good condition. We could each have our own bedroom with a spare for guests or storage. We’ll also need to replace the windows, but that’s a given.”

“Have you found the privy yet?”

Bifur shook his head. “Not yet, but my guess is it’s one o’ the two doors in the kitchen.” Turning, he made to head back down the stairs. “I have to admit, I’m glad this building is proving me wrong so far.”

Bofur chuckled as he followed him. “I can’t blame ya for doubting it. The last three we went to were in such bad shape, it’d be better t’ just tear them down and start anew. But this one has potential. Strong potential.”

As they headed down to the first floor and into the kitchen again, they each headed to one of the unopened doors. Bifur’s brows rose in surprise as he found a small, walled-in garden area behind his door. It was severely overgrown and would need a lot of work to get it back into shape, but it was a nice bit of space that could be very pretty once tamed.

“Found the privy,” Bofur called from his door. “Huh. This…is a fancy privy.”

“How so?” He headed back in, but left the door open. Stepping into the privy, he couldn’t help but laugh. “A bathtub _an’_ a toilet in the same room?” he questioned. He watched, amused, as his cousin climbed into the copper tub. It had turned turquoise with age, but that could be polished away.

Bofur grinned, looking very much like a child as he sat in the tub. “This could actually be a nice treat!” he chirped. “Better than bathin’ in wooden basins.”

“Not as good as the hot springs in Erebor, though.” He walked over and peered into the tub. “It’s a nice depth. Like you said, it could be a nice treat, especially after a busy day.” He then went over to the toilet, giving its wooden foundation a small kick. “Hm. Might need to replace this, but that shouldn’t be too bad.”

As he turned around, he was just in time to see Bofur’s foot get caught on the rim of the tub as he climbed out. A curse left his mouth and he tumbled to the floor, landing on his back. “Good thing you wear that hat of yours, cousin, so it can cushion your noggin whenever you fall.” Going over to him, he offered him a hand up.

Taking it, Bofur grunted as he was pulled to his feet. “We’ll need t’ make a step or two for getting in and out of it,” he said. He straightened his hat as he looked at the tub. “Or…hm. We could lower it into the floor a few inches…”

“I think it’d just be easier to cut a few inches off o’ the top and curl it back over, honestly.”

“…Aye, that actually sounds _much_ easier.”

* * *

Baylee wasn’t used to being still for so long.

She was standing on a raised pedestal in a seamstress’ shop, both Primrose and the shop’s owner, a willowy woman with knee-length silver hair named Eidel, were pacing around her. The latter of the two had a measuring tape in hand that she frequently held up to Baylee’s body only to then announce a number. Off to the side, one of her apprentices wrote the number down for her.

“…We should most definitely stick to yellows, greens, and light blues,” Primrose was saying. “Reds would look too harsh on her an’ purples would simply wash her out.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Eidel said with a nod. “I’ve some lovely yellow fabrics that I just got in from Gondor not long ago—they’ll look very pretty on her.”

Her brow rising slightly, Baylee continued to do her best to stay still. “I was hopin’ for something with some brown in it, too,” she said, her voice a little on the shy side.

At that, Eidel’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, _yes_!” she grinned. Reaching up, she lightly tilted Baylee’s head up so that the light caught the color of her eyes better. “Some deep, rich browns would really make the color o’ these lovely eyes o’ yours ‘pop’, don’t you think, Primrose?”

The brunette nodded, smiling as well. “Most definitely. But warmer browns, I think, would be best.” Her brow rose slightly as she watched some color appear on her friend’s cheeks. She knew Baylee wasn’t a fan of being the center of attention, least of all when she was literally placed on a pedestal to be observed. “How many more measurements will ya need?”

“Just a couple more.” As she spoke, she wrapped the tape around the widest part of Baylee’s hips before reading off yet another number. Crouching down, she then placed one end of the tape at the top of her hip while the other measured down to her ankle. After relaying the number to her assistant, she said, “As Miss Lightfoot already knows, I take as many measurements as possible t’ ensure my customers get the best fit possible. Some may think I’m bein’ a touch excessive, but my customers rarely ever need something altered when it comes time t’ do the final fittings.” A mischievous twinkle came to her blue eyes.

“Which is, exactly, why you’re the best in Dale,” Primrose smiled. She watched as the woman took one last measurement before going over to her assistant.

“You flatter me, Miss Lightfoot. And…yes, that was the last one needed,” she told them. “Feel free t’ come down now, Miss Braddock.”

A quiet, relieve sigh left her mouth as she hopped down to the floor. Brushing some hair from her face, Baylee looked over at Primrose, who had already gone over at a stack of various rolled up fabrics. Shaking her head, she chuckled to herself and walked over.

“Already deciding on what I’ll be wearing?” she joked.

“Not entirely. Although…” She slightly pulled one of the rolls out—a rich, buttery yellow velvet with subtle embossing—and pulled Baylee over to stand beside it. “This would be so pretty on you!”

Looking at the fabric, she ran her fingers over it. “Hm. Maybe…It feels a bit thick an’ heavy, though. I’m not really a fan o’ my clothes being heavy.”

Primrose stared at her in shock; most women she knew would jump at the chance for having a dress made of such lovely material! “But think of how wonderfully it would twirl about your ankles as you danced!”

Her brow rising, she playfully rolled her eyes. “I’ll _think_ about it,” she chuckled. “But there are hundreds o’ other fabrics to look through first.” Looking past Primrose, she saw Eidel coming over.

“Oh, heavens no, dears,” she said, taking both younger women by the shoulders and guiding them away. “Those are heavier fabrics—they’re much better for cooler temperatures. With spring and summer coming, you’ll want t’ be wearing breezy cottons and flowing linens!”

The three women spent nearly an entire hour picking out fabrics while discussing the fits and shapes of the future garments. For this, Baylee was glad to have Primrose there with her because, while she enjoyed wearing nicer clothes, she knew next to nothing about the language used to create them. Primrose, on the other hand, was fluent and helped her friend out whenever something confusing was said.

“Now it’ll be just a couple o’ weeks for the clothes to get made and then we’ll be able to see you try them all on,” Primrose grinned as they walked through the market. “You’ll have to be sure t’ send word to me on that day—I don’t want to miss you playing dress up.”

“It’s less o’ playin’ dress up as it is making sure everything fits,” Baylee chuckled. She brushed some hair from her face and looked around. She still had some money left over—Eidel told her she required half payment upfront and half at the time of pickup—and her stomach was feeling quite empty. “You hungry?” She started to walk towards a vendor selling hand pies.

At that Primrose’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Starving, actually. I didn’t get much of a breakfast.”

Baylee looked up and over her shoulder at her friend, a scolding look on her face. ‘An’ why is that?” she demanded.

“I may have slept in an’ found myself running late,” she replied with an innocent smile.

“How many pies do ya want?” She pulled the coin purse out as they approached the vendor.

“Oh, that’s alright, Baylee. I’ve my own money—”

“How many pies do ya want?” she repeated, her voice a bit firm.

Know that she wasn’t going to back down, Primrose relented with a small chuckle. “Two chicken ones, please.” It was a familiar scenario for them both; whoever pulled out their money purse first almost always made the other let them pay.

“An’ I’ll have one chicken and one apple spice, please,” Baylee told the woman.

Nodding, the woman used a pair of tongs to pick up the pies, wrapping each one up in a bit of paper. “Here you go, dearies—careful, they came out of the oven not but ten minutes ago!” She smiled as she exchanged the pies for the coin.

“Thank you, Missus Townsend,” the two chorused before walking off again.

Taking a small nibble from the corner of one of her pies, Primrose glanced over at Baylee. “So…when I arrived at the Tankard earlier, I happened t’ notice a group of dwarves at one of your tables.” She started to blow air into the hole she had made, hoping it would help cool the pastry down more.

“Aye, they’re stayin’ for a couple of weeks. Three o’ them are lookin’ for some business partners around town. Da’ and recommended your family.” Breaking the corner off of her chicken pie, she blew on it a couple of times before popping it into her mouth.

She nodded. “I thought so. The one with star-shaped hair looked familiar.”

“So ya have seen them before?” She took a bite of her pie only to start fanning her mouth. “Ah, hot-hot-hot! So yummy but so hot!”

Primrose laughed, her brow rising. “She _told_ us to be careful, Baylee! It’s your own fault if you’ve got a blistered tongue now.” Shaking her head, she continued to blow into hers. “But yes, I’ve seen them before. I don’t know much about them, since it’s Rosalina an’ Rosemary who help father with the business, but they seem nice enough. The youngest one is quite shy.”

After managing to chew and swallow the bite of pie without serious injury, Baylee smiled. “Aye, he is a bit shy, but Ori’s quite sweet once he starts t’ open up.”

“His name is Ori?”

“Aye. He’s Ori, the star-haired one is Nori, an’ Dori is the eldest with silver braids.”

“What about the other two who were at the table?”

“Bifur an’ Bofur. Bofur’s the one with the hat.”

“Are they also in Dale to do business?”

“O’ sorts. They’re location scoutin’ so they can open a toy shop here.” Taking the proper precautions this time, she blew many times on the corner of her pie before taking a bite. It was still hot, but much more bearable this time.

Primrose made a sound of acknowledgement as she finally took a bite of her pie. After swallowing, she glanced down at Baylee. “A toy shop would be a lovely addition t’ the town! Dale used to be known all over for its toys, after all. And there are so many young children these days…they could do with some quality toys.”

“Why do ya ask?” She looked up at her friend, a brow raised. “Not goin’ to be spreading rumors around with your gossip sessions, are ya?” she teased. The two women stopped walking, choosing to instead sit atop a short wall while they ate.

“I’ll have you know, proper ladies do _not_ spread rumors or have gossip sessions,” she replied with an indignant pout. “I merely wanted t’ know because it’s not often that we get that many dwarves here in town outside o’ festivals. They’re usually comin’ here by themselves or in pairs. Which, if you think about it, is a bit odd, considering how close we are to Erebor…”

“We’re not the only ones still rebuilding,” Baylee reminded her. “Dale got razed by a dragon, but Erebor _housed_ the dragon for many, many years. Think o’ all the damage that happened inside o’ there.” She started to blow on her pie again.

She nodded slowly, glancing past the buildings and towards the Lonely Mountain. “That is true,” she murmured. “What do ya think it’s like in there?” she then asked. “Do you think it’s dark an’ scary like a normal cave?”

At that, Baylee couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s _nothing_ like that, Prim. It’s actually quite the opposite.”

“How do you know?”

“Two years ago, da’ and I went to Erebor t’ buy Will some new carving tools,” she explained. “While there was still a lot of damage that was bein’ repaired, the place was actually quite pretty. Everything’s carved out o’ green marble…An’ there aren’t many ceilings, so a combination o’ light from the outside and from hundreds and hundred o’ lamps lights up the place. You could see the reds an’ the golds an’ the whites all throughout the marble. It’s very lovely.”

Primrose looked rather impressed. “I would have never expected it to be green marble…Actually, I wouldn’t have expected it t’ be marble at all. I would have thought it’d all be plain, grey stone.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “Nah. If ya get the chance, you should really go see it. Like I said, it’s really quite lovely.”

“Hm. Perhaps someday I will,” she murmured. “Speaking o’ Will, though, has there been any word about when he should be back?”

“No, sadly,” she sighed. “We’re hopin’ they just ran into a bit o’ wagon trouble or some bad weather and that’s what’s takin’ them so long to get back.” Taking another bite, she, too, looked out towards Erebor, though her gaze turned a little bit more to the south, to the eastern horizon. Another sigh left her mouth. “Somethin’ tells me he’s doing fine, though.” Looking back at Primrose, she then smiled reassuringly. “An’ you got t’ remember: Will’s always been the slowpoke out of the two of us. If anyone could drag out returnin’ from Dorwinion, it’d be that lad.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dori leaned back in his chair as he took in a long breath of mint-flavored smoke from his pipe. With his eyes closed, he could not see the flickering of the flames before him, but he could certainly feel them. The warmth felt good against his skin, reminding him of his own hearth back in Erebor. Just a couple more days, he thought, and he could be sitting in front of it again with a nice cup of tea while listening to Nori and Ori bickering…

Wait.

That last bit wasn’t right…

Opening his eyes, he turned round to see his brothers motioning angrily at two sets of stone dice on the table. “You’re using you’re weighted dice, Nori! That isn’t fair!” Ori accused, doing his best to sound as stern as possible. Being the youngest of the three, however, made him sound anything but authoritative—at least to Nori.

“They are _not_ my weighted dice! Why would I cheat at a game of dice with my own brother when I know full well he hasn’t anythin’ o’ value to offer?” Nori snapped, throwing one of the dice at him. It hit Ori square in the forehead, making him scrunch his nose up and rub the spot.

‘Durin’s beard, they’re at it again…’ Dori thought, his eyes closing again. This time, however, it was not in peace.

Ori snatched up the die that had been thrown at him. “This is too one o’ your weighted dice!” he argued. “I see the bits of granite you’ve stuck in the numbers!” He angrily pointed at the minute, white flecks inside the die’s rune markings.

“You couldn’t tell granite from gabbros,” Nori growled, snatching it back from him. “You’ve never even worked in a mine! Mum made sure of that!”

“That’s because mum saw my potential as a transcriber,” Ori grumbled, looking away with a small, indignant pout.

Nori rolled his eyes as he gathered up the rest of his dice. “No, she just knew you wouldn’t last three days in one of those _nâshtagûl_ -”

“Language,” Dori idly warned. “And stop your bickering. Nori, use your unweighted dice. You’re not trying to swindle money out o’ people here—least of all, your brother.” He shook his head and sighed, smoke slowly billowing from his mouth and nose. “Why, if our dear old mother were alive and hearing the way you two fight…She’d knock you both upside the head an’ make you scrub the floors.”

“Sounds similar to what my mother would make my sister and I do.” The brothers looked up in time to see Demelza coming to a halt at their table. With her, she brought a platter of food. “Here you lads are,” she said, an apologetic smile on her lips. “Sorry it took a bit; we’ve just got a couple o’ wagons of supplies here from Dorwinion, so the kitchen an’ store room are in a bit of a tizzy.”

Dori got up from his chair and dragged it back over to the table. “It’s quite alright, Miss Demelza,” he replied, smiling reassuringly. “This should do us quite well for now.”

“Alright then,” she said. “Just give us a holler if you’re needin’ anything.” With a twirl of her skirts, she walked back into the kitchen once more, leaving the dwarves and a pair of old men as the room’s only occupants.

After having stayed there for a full week, they had come to learn that such emptiness was highly uncommon.

“Bifur and Bofur are missing out,” Ori spoke, trying to change subject with his brothers. “Where are they at?” He started to cut into the loaf of crusty bread, wanting some to dunk into his soup.

Nori shrugged, still feeling a bit sour towards him and Dori. “Probably in that run-down shack they’re goin’ to call a store.” He slid his dice into a pouch on his belt, his brows furrowed slightly.

“It’s a strong building,” Dori interjected, throwing him a look. “Once they get it cleaned up, I’m sure it’ll suit their needs.” He sliced a chunk of cheese from the large wedge they had been given and dropped it into his soup bowl. “It’s adds a bit more of a salty flavor,” he told his brothers when they looked at him oddly.

Nori shook his head. “It’s a gamble I wouldn’t have made an’ that’s sayin’ something,” he told the other two. He merely ripped a chunk of bread from the loaf and split that in half. Between the pieces, he spooned a bit of soup before placing some cheese atop it. On top of that, he placed a wedge of meat and smashed it all together between the two pieces of bread before taking a large bite. “They’re toymakers, _not_ carpenters,” he somehow managed to say through the mouthful of food.

Dori rolled his eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!” he dryly scolded. “Ori, have you been keepin’ a record of our goings-on over the last few days?” he then asked, changing the subject once more.

“Yes, I have,” he replied, fumbling with something on his belt. After a moment, he held up a small, leather-bound book. “All of it is in here, includin’ the meetings we had just this morning.” Flicking the book open, he thumbed through it until he found the most recent pages. “See?” He handed it over to Dori, who started to study it.

Nori leaned over, looking at it as well. “It seems that we’ll be doin’ most of our dealings with the Lightfoot family,” he murmured. Sitting upright once more, he took another bite of his food before spooning some soup into his mouth.

“Indeed it does,” Dori agreed. “As well as that Lady Guthwine…”

Ori, having heard most of what they were talking about earlier, paid them no mind as he ate his lunch. He did his best to not slurp the soup from his spoon, not wanting to disrupt the general quiet of the room at the moment. Truthfully, the work his brothers did bored him almost to tears. The only reason he had come with them was because he would be able to see how the humans of Dale lived (which was much different from the small villages near the Blue Mountains) and how much the city had improved since the war.

Hearing voices from the kitchen, he glanced up in time to see Warren backing his way into the common room, holding up one end of a massive oak barrel. As the other half of the barrel came through, he could see that a young man held the other end. He was similar to Warren in size and height, but the color of his eyes matched the bright green of Baylee’s and he had dirty-blonde hair. Though, there was one notable feature about him that kept Ori from noticing the rest: Almost the entirety of the left side of his face was covered by horrible scarring.

“More t’ the left,” the man told Warren as they carried the barrel behind the bar. The two of them grunted loudly as they started to crouch down. “Watch your fingers!”

“You, too,” Warren answered as they set the barrel down. Seeing that it was in its proper place and had no intent of rolling away, they grinned and stood up straight again. “Now, how many did ya say were left out there?” he jokingly asked.

The young man smirked as Warren set a large hand on his shoulder. “Eight. You told me to refill our alcohol supplies an’ that’s just what I did.”

“And not a day too soon! By the end of the week, we would have been out of wine and, by the end of _next_ week, we would have been out of ale!” He laughed, mussing up the younger man’s hair.

He pouted and patted his hair back into place. “Now, da’, when have I ever let ya down?” he asked, unscarred brow rising.

“It would appear that Miss Baylee got the short-stick in her family,” Ori thought aloud, interrupting Nori and Dori’s chat about what virgin ore would be best to give to which of their potential business partners.

Dori raised his spoon from his soup, a long, thin string of cheese rising with it. “Hm? Why’s that, lad?”

He motioned to the two men, who were just ducking back into the kitchen. “That younger bloke is her brother.”

Nori snorted, his brow rising. “I’d like t’ know what they eat, then,” he said, half joking. “Maybe if I ate whatever they did, I could get taller than Dwalin.” He spooned more soup into his mouth before ripping off another hunk of bread. This one he put into the middle of his soup, using his spoon to mash it up.

At that, Dori and Ori snorted into their bowls. “You already are,” Ori grinned. “But only because of your hair!” He grinned cheekily as Nori shot him a small glare, though he was able to see that his middle brother also wore a small grin on his lips.

Warren and his son came hauling in another barrel not long after. The dwarves could see that it was taking them some effort; as strong as Warren looked (and was), his cheeks were red and there were beads of sweat forming along his brow. Dori frowned and wondered why they didn’t they have others to help? Surely the stable hand could have helped?

Waiting until they had set the barrel down, he called over, “Lads, would you like some help with those barrels?”

Panting slightly, Warren looked over at the dwarves. “I couldn’t ask tha’ o’ you, Master Dori. You’re a guest here!” He pulled a kerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe the sweat off his face.

Dori smiled reassuringly. “You’re not asking— _I’m_ offerin’. Now, with that said, would you like some help?”

With a small laugh, Warren nodded in defeat. “Aye, some help would much appreciated, Master Dori. We’ve got six more of these heavy blighters t’ haul in.”

“Should be easy enough,” he chirped, standing. “Nori, Ori—let’s go. Our lunches will still be here when we get back.”

Just as a reassurance, both Ori and Nori shoved a last bite of cheese into their mouths, chewing it as they followed Warren and his son through the kitchen and into the inn yard. They were more than a little surprised to find three wagons packed neatly into the area. The largest of them was facing the door of the kitchen and the three dwarves could see why: It was filled with nothing but barrels of varying sizes, though none of them could be called small.

The stable hand, Dori saw, was busy unloading a different wagon that was filled with all sizes of crates and boxes.

“In you go, Ori,” Nori said, hefting his brother into the back of the cart. “Roll us one of those big ones, aye?”

Nodding, Ori carefully turned the barrel onto its side before rolling it to the edge of the wagon. From there, Nori and Dori easily picked it up and started to carry it into the building. While they were gone, he readied the next barrel.

Warren felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over, seeing his son wearing a concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Are they goin’ to be alright?” he asked, his voice quiet. “I know dwarves are a lot stronger than men, but those are some _damned_ heavy barrels.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry, Will,” he chuckled. “Believe me—dwarves can lift _far_ more weight than you can imagine. These barrels are hardly anythin’ to them.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “How many horses did it take t’ haul this wagon?”

“Eight. An’ all of them are on their way back to Ivsgard as we speak.” He looked around, seeing Demelza, Wenna, and Galiene emptying out the wagon in the middle. The three women seemed to be ecstatic to have their imported goods in supply once more. Helping Peter was Gawen, the two of them making good time at unloading the third wagon. His brow rose, though, when he noticed someone missing. “Where’s Baylee?”

“Galiene sent her to the market,” he replied. Having regained his breath, he went over to the wagon, pointing to the smaller barrels. “Those ones please, Master Ori.” He looked at Will. “She left about half an hour ago, so she shouldn’t be gone much longer.” As Ori handed him the barrel, he thanked him and waited for Will to get one as well.

“Ahh, that makes sense,” he chuckled, following his father once he had a hold of the barrel. As they walked into the Tankard, Nori and Dori were coming back out. “An’ here I thought she was just worming her way out of helping unload things.”

Warren snorted. “No, no…she hasn’t had t’ worm her way out of anythin’ lately. Though, she has been sneaking out durin’ dead hours to go ride her horse.” They carried the barrels behind the bar, taking them to the far end where similar sized casks already sat. “Your aunt an’ uncle went with her the other day. It was nice, seein’ them riding across the plains out there. O’ course, they were only small dots from all the way up here…”

“I take it she’s been bored without me here?” Will joked. He looked past his father in time to see Dori and Nori bringing in another one of the enormous barrels; their cheeks weren’t the slightest bit red, nor was there any sign of exertion on their brow.

“I wouldn’t say _bored_ , but aye, she has been missing her little brother something fierce.”

Nori nearly dropped his end of the barrel upon accidentally hearing their conversation. “Wait, you’re Miss Baylee’s _little_ brother?” he gawked.

A laugh left Will’s mouth as the two brothers stared up at him. “Aye, but only by a meager twenty minutes,” he grinned. He then gave the dwarves a small bow. “Will Braddock at your service.

“Dori an’ Nori at yours,” the brothers chorused as they finally set the barrel down.

“Our younger brother, Ori, is the one out in the wagon,” Dori added, brushing his hands off.

“A pleasure t’ meet you, masters,” Will smiled as the four of them headed back outside. “An’ many thanks to you for helpin’ us with these bar—”

“Will!”

Turning around, he was just in time to catch Baylee as she jumped towards him. Laughing, he used her momentum to spin her around in a circle, his brow rising. “There’s the world’s best big little sister!”

“When did you get back?!” she laughed, hugging onto him. “I was just in the market an’ I didn’t see hide nor hair o’ any o’ the traders!”

“That’s because we crept in through the southern gates.” He grinned as he hoisted Baylee over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making her squeal in surprise. “Huh. You’ve lost a bit o’ weight, ‘Lee. Inn’s been busy, then?”

She lightly kicked her legs and playfully hit him on the back. “Put me down, ya lout!” she laughed.

“Do I have to? You’re _so_ much lighter than those barrels o’ alcohol!” He wrapped an arm around her legs, keeping them from flailing. “Anyway, is this how ya treat your brother after he’s been gone nearly four months, hmm? Especially when he’s gone an’ brought you some presents!"

Her brows rose slightly and she looked at the back of his head. “Presents?” she chirped, ceasing her futile escape attempts. “Ya brought us presents?” Behind her, she could hear the Ri brothers chuckling at her reaction.

“You know ya didn’t have to do that, Will,” Warren told him, his brow rising.

Will turned towards his father, which meant that Baylee now faced the wagon. “What kind o’ son, brother, an’ nephew would I be if I _didn’t_ bring presents?” he laughed. His brow rose as he felt his sister suddenly pull away from him. As he turned back around, he was just in time to see her pulling herself atop one of the barrels. “Hey, I wasn’t done with you!”

Baylee grinned, swinging herself up and over the ledge of the wagon just as Will tried to grab for her. “I’m not going t’ be held prisoner on your bony shoulder!” she laughed, ducking behind one of the large barrels. She then blinked, finding herself looking up at Ori. “Hello, Master Ori,” she chirped.

“Hello, Miss Baylee,” he replied with a small chuckle. “I’m afraid I have to ask you t’ move behind a different barrel—this one’s about to be unloaded.”

“I was wonderin’ why you were up here.” She crawled to the other side of the wagon. “Thank you for helpin’ out.”

He turned the barrel onto its side, hearing a bit of sloshing inside. “It’s no trouble,” he replied. “Dori and Nori are doin’ most of the hard work…but Dori’s the strongest dwarrow I know, so no doubt this is still easy for him.”

Her head tilted slightly. “Dwarrow?”

“It’s what dwarves prefer t’ call themselves.” It wasn’t Ori who answered, but Warren. “It’s how ‘dwarf’ used to be said, but over the years, Westron has changed an’ evolved so that some words our ancestors used are either entirely forgotten or entirely different from what we speak today.”

“That’s quite right, Master Braddock!” Baylee and Ori looked at the end of the wagon, where Dori and Nori were waiting for the next barrel. “We’ve always preferred the way ‘dwarrow’ runs off the tongue more than ‘dwarf’, and so we continue to use it, even if Men and Elves do not. Though, I must admit, I’m rather surprised you knew that.”

Warren chuckled, reaching into the wagon from the side to grab a small cask. “Long before I was an inn owner, I was apprenticed t’ a dwarrow smith in Laketown. He taught me a lot o’ things about dwarrowkind in addition to how t’ work metal.” He passed the cask off to Will before grabbing a second one, also handing it to his son. “Only reason I stopped smithin’ was because my wife refused t’ marry me until I found a less odiferous occupation!” he laughed.

Nori chuckled, his brow rising as he and Dori took the next large barrel. “Well, that certainly explains why a man o’ your size is running an inn. Watch it, Ori—you nearly got my fingers there!”

“Sorry! It’s hard t’ see past something that’s taller _and_ wider than you!”

With the entire staff of the inn helping, it didn’t take very long to get all the wagons unpacked, nor did it take much longer to get everything put away in its rightful spots. The Ri brothers, having finished help hauling in the alcohol supply, let out content sighs as they sat back down at their table. Though their soups were now lukewarm at best, they happily picked up their spoons and continued to eat.

Soon, Baylee came walking over, tying her apron into place behind her. “Papa would like me t’ inform you three that this meal an’ the next are on the house as thanks for helpin’ us with the barrels,” she told them.

“Oh, he needn’t do that—it was our pleasure to help!” Dori replied, seeming just a touch flustered by the generosity.

“He said you’d say that an’ also would like me to tell you he’s not goin’ to take no for an answer,” she chuckled. “Now, is there anythin’ I can get you three? Your mugs are lookin’ a bit on the empty side.”

Ori looked up at her, smiling shyly. “Could I get another bowl of soup, please?” he asked.

“Make that two bowls,” Nori said, pushing his bowl towards her.

“Ah, make that _three,_ actually,” Dori said, adding his bowl to the lineup.

Taking the bowls and putting them on her tray, she then started to grab their tankards. “Three soups an’ three drink refills. Anything else, lads?”

They shook their heads. “That should be enough. Thank you, though,” Nori said. As she picked up the tray and headed off, he looked at Ori. “Do you want to place dice again?”

Ori somewhat pouted. “Only if you _promise_ to not use your weighted dice.”

“I promise.” Pulling out a set of dice, he rolled one across the table to his younger brother. “See? Entirely shale, nothing else.”

Plucking the die up, Ori gave it a thorough inspection, though it was unneeded. He recognized Nori’s shale dice well enough—mostly because he had been the one to buy them for him. “Alright, I’m satisfied,” he sighed, rolling it back. He opened a pouch and let his own set of dice roll onto the tabletop. His had been carved from petrified wood and given to him as a gift from Dwalin just some months ago. He bit back a smile as he looked them over.

“Do you want to start over or pickup from where we left off?” Nori questioned before shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

“New game.” He tore a piece of bread from the loaf they were sharing before taking a small bite. “Since you’re not going to be cheating anymore.”

At that, Nori pouted slightly; of course, he had been winning the previous game. “Alright, a new game it is,” he replied. “You roll first.”

As he grabbed his dice and started to shake them between his hands, Ori saw a tankard of ale appear next to him. He looked up, intending to say ‘Thank you, Miss Baylee’, but he only got out the ‘Thank you’ when he saw that it _wasn’t_ Baylee who had set the drink down—it had been Will.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. He placed down the other two mugs before standing upright. “Is there anything else I can get you or does my sister have you taken care o’?” he asked, his hands resting on his lips.

“O’ course I have them taken care of.” Baylee walked past him, setting a bowl of soup in front of Dori. “Ya know I don’t let our customers go hungry or thirsty.” She rounded the table, setting Nori’s bowl in front of him.

“Aye, otherwise, you’d be workin’ for the Empty Tankard across town,” he chuckled. Seeing that the fire was getting low in the hearth, he moved to rearrange the coals and current bits of wood in it. Though spring was on its way, there was still a bit of a chill in the air.

Ori did his best to not stare at his scar; there were plenty of dwarves who bore similar—if not worse—marks to his, but it still boggled his mind how a _human_ could survive such a wound. A dwarf he could understand; dwarves were hardy and not easily struck down by illness or infection.

“He got that in the war.” Baylee gave him a small smile as she set his bowl down in front of him.

His cheeks turned bright red. “I wasn’t meaning to stare,” he quickly told her, looking shamefully down into his soup.

She gave him an understanding smile. “You’re not the first, nor will you be the last, lad. Don’t feel bad,” she assured him, her voice on the quiet side for his sake

“Hm? You say something, ‘Lee?” Will glanced over his shoulder at the group.

“Not a thing.” She made a shooing motion with her hands towards him. “Just go on an’ get back t’ your fire building.”

His brow rose and he chuckled. “Careful, or I might have t’ put you on the chandelier there.” Nodding at the massive, iron chandelier that hung from the ceiling, he stood upright and brushed some soot from his hands onto his pants.

She snorted. “Even if ya wanted to, you couldn’t—you’re not _that_ tall.”

“As true as that is, I _can_ reach if I crawl onto one o’ the tables.” He wore a mischievous grin as he started to walk towards her.

“Don’t you dare, William!” she laughed, darting backwards.

The dwarves laughed as they watched her hold her serving tray up as if it were a shield. They were a bit surprised by the way she stood, though; it was a proper defensive stance for someone using an axe or a short sword.

One of the old men, Abbot, called out, “Get ‘er, Willie!”

“Get the broom, ‘Lee!” Bill laughed. “Keep him at a distance!”

It was then Warren entered the room, a look of pain on his face. “’Lee, I need your help,” he said. As she looked over, she could see him holding a bloodied cloth to his arm.

“Aw, but I was about t’ hang her on the light,” Will protested. Then, seeing the cloth, he frowned. “Blessings, da’, what happened?”

“Was haulin’ some stuff past the wagons and I guess there was a bit of wood sticking out,” he explained. “Might want t’ get some water boilin’, ‘Lee—this is going to need stitching.”

She nodded, starting to head for the kitchen. “Aye. Do you want me to throw some athelas into it?”

“Hm. No. But do throw in some witch hazel an’ chamomile. And grab a bit of honey. I’ll meet you in our quarters.”

Will watched with a small frown as his father and sister disappeared. Shaking his head, he turned around to return to the hearth. “Always getting into trouble, that man,” he murmured. Gathering up more wood from the wood box, he knelt down in front of the fire and started to place the logs.

Behind him, Ori finally rolled his dice, watching as they traveled across the table before stopping. Adding up the total number, he declared, “Twenty-seven and holding.” He then gathered his dice back up, sweeping them towards himself. Tearing off another bit of bread, he dunked it into his soup and let it sit a few seconds before popping it into his mouth.

Nori gave his dice a shake as he took a drink of ale, letting them go as he set the tankard down. “Twenty-one and rerolling three,” he said once they had stopped. Picking up the three dice with the lowest numbers showing, he gave them another shake and let them roll. “Twenty-one and seven is twenty-eight.”

Dori shook his head, watching as his brothers played their silly dice game; though, he was glad that no arguments about cheating were coming about as a result of this go-around.

He was halfway through his soup when the door to the inn opened, letting in a chilly breeze from outside. In came Bofur and Bifur, both looking exhausted and almost ghost-like thanks to being covered from head to foot in various types of dust. As both got closer, Dori could see they had bits of wood sticking out of their hair.

“You lads look like you had a rough day,” he said, frowning. He watched as they plopped down in what had become their usual seats.

Bifur nodded; too tired to talk at the moment, he used his hands to ‘speak’ for him. _‘Much work needs done.’_ He then let his head fall back against the chair’s backrest.

“Well, you got t’ get the place clean before you can do anything else I suppose,” Nori said, rolling his dice again. “Ha! Twenty-nine!” He plucked up his ale and took a long drink as Ori shook up his dice and let them roll. “Ori, go order them some lunch,” he ordered after they tallied up the younger’s points.

“Why me?” he frowned.

“Consider it revenge for waking me up and makin’ me go with you to the privy last night.”

His cheeks turning pink, Ori got up from his spot and hurried towards the kitchen without further argument.

“The place is comin’ along nicely, though,” Bofur said, smiling tiredly. His mustache looked grey from all the dust. “We’ve got all the fallen debris off of the floors an’ we’ve already taken the measurements for the new window. We just need t’ find ourselves a decent enough woodworker t’ help us.”

At that, Will cocked his head, unable to help but listen in as he swept up the soot and ashes he had accidentally spread around.

“How much is there you need done?” Dori asked, his brow rising slightly.

“Hm…let’s see: Parts o’ the second-floor floors need replaced, the windows—glass and frames—need replacing…We most definitely need a new front door since Bifur ripped the current one off its hinges. We also need a new privy seat and a new roof section for the rooftop balcony,” Bofur answered. He thanked Dori as he handed him some bread.

“And that’s on top of us taking out a section of wall for a storefront window,” Bifur added. “We also need t’ find someone who can make a big enough sheet o’ glass…” He thanked Nori when he was handed some cheese. “But first comes the wood work. That’s the most important bit. Can’t have a shop without a door…”

Dori nodded in agreement. “Aye, you don’t want thieves t’ get in with ease,” he told him, subtly throwing a look at Nori. “What kind of doors do you suggest, brother?” he then asked.

“Some nice, heavy oak doors should do the trick,” Nori replied with a shrug. “Oak or maple with a nice, sturdy dwarvish lock.”

“I don’t meant t’ pry, little masters,” Will interrupted, “but you said you needed a woodworker?” As he stood, he, brushed bits of soot and slivers of wood from his trousers. Glancing past them, he saw Ori come back.

Bofur blinked, his head tilting ever so slightly; how had he not seen that giant of a man behind Dori? “You must eat your greens…” he thought aloud as he gawked up at Will.

Will laughed, setting his hands on his hips. “Ah, it’s just a trait I get from da’,” he explained. “But, aye, about that woodworkin’ help you’ll be needed…?” He smiled down at them before dragging over a chair. He spun it around so that it was backwards before sitting down, large forearms resting on the backrest.

Bifur nodded. “As you heard, there’s a lot o’ work to be done,” he said. “Doors, floors, windows…And that’s not even including what comes after getting the building livable again.”

Setting his chin in his palm, Will tilted his head curiously. “Just what sort of place did ya buy? If you don’t mind me askin’, that is.”

“They purchased a three-story building on the main street,” Dori answered; Bofur and Bifur’s lunch had arrived via Demelza and they were already stuffing their mouths. “Their intent is to turn it into a toy shop.”

“You haven’t even been home two hours, Will, an’ you’re already trying to find work again?” Shaking her head, she chuckled and placed two fresh loaves of bread on the table, as well as some cheese. “You an’ your sister, always trying to stay busy.” Her brow then rose a bit when she saw how filthy Bofur and Bifur were. “Would ya two like me to ready you a bath for after your meal?” she asked.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Bofur answered with a tired grin. As she walked off, he looked back at Will. “So. What proof do you have o’ your skills, lad?” Leaning forward, he huddled himself around his soup bowl and started to eat in an almost greedy fashion.

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you’re eatin’ on one example,” he replied, patting the tabletop. “Parts o’ this place are other examples…Let’s see: I built the doors, patched up the window frames, did a good portion o’ rebuilding the roof…” He nodded towards the kitchen, “and all of the cabinetry in there as well as the sign outside. That’s about it, really. The rest o’ the stuff I’ve done is sunk with Smaug at the bottom of the Long Lake or having been burnt t’ a crisp by that demon, sadly.”

Dori cocked his head. “You haven’t done any work around the city?” he questioned. He lightly smacked Bifur’s hand as the dwarf was trying to eat his soup and his cheese at the same time –a rather difficult task. “Slow down or you’ll get a stomachache!” Bifur half-glared at him, but did slow down his eating.

“I have, but most o’ it has been in Bard’s hall. Ever since I got these beauties,” he motioned at his face, “folk have been a little scared of me, so work’s been slow. Friends o’ the family hire me once in a while, but only for minor repairs like a wobbly chair or squeaky door. As such, I’ve mostly been traveling with the trading caravans of late, providing some extra protection.”

The three dwarves nodded in unison as they listened to him. Bofur thought over his words as he ate, letting his eyes wander about. Their first night at the Tankard, he had taken notice that the tables and chairs seemed to be of better quality than most inns he had stayed in and that the windows in his and Bifur’s room did not rattle or let in the chilly night air –a sign that the building was well-cared for.

“My cousin an’ I will certainly think about it, lad,” Bofur said after some minutes. He was already convinced that he could do good work, but he knew it would be best to discuss such a thing over with Bifur first. “We’ll let you know after we’ve had a good meal an’ a good bath, alright?”

Will nodded in understanding, a smile on his lips. “That’s fair enough,” he replied. “Will Braddock, at your service by the way.”

“An’ Bofur and Bifur at yours!” the cousins chorused.

Less than an hour later found the cousins in the inn’s male bathing room. It was nestled behind the kitchen and alongside the female bathing room. Curtains hung around the seven tubs, giving them plenty of privacy. Not that the two of them cared; they had bathed often enough around one another. As such, they had the curtain separating their tubs thrown back, making for easier conversation.

“The lad seems skilled enough,” Bofur was saying as he had his head bent over the water, scrubbing soap into his hair. He learned a long time ago that it was vital to wash one’s hair first, lest the water get too dirty. “After all, our rooms aren’t cold at night, even when the fire goes out. And the furniture in this place is good quality. An’ we both know the only use I can find for wood is for makin’ toys. I’m lost on actual carpentry as I’m sure you are, too.”

“Aye, he does seem skilled. But there’s no tellin’ if he’s actually telling us the truth. I’ve known craftsmen who have lied plenty of times about the quality of their work so they could get the most coin out of a shoddy job,” Bifur chortled, also scrubbing his hair and beard. His was proving to be a bit more difficult, as he also had a large, wiry beard to clean. It was no easy task to finger-comb the bits of wood and plaster from it. “Let’s give him a bit of a test run before we agree to anything—make sure he’s good and can keep up fairly well.”

“That sounds quite reasonable. An’ if he is good, he shouldn’t have any qualms about it, either.”

“But if he _is_ as good as he says…well, then, we’ve certainly lucked out, haven’t we?”

Unable to see thanks to the curtain of brunette hair in his face, Bofur blindly reached over the edge of the tub, his hand groping along the floor for the bucket of warm water meant for rinsing. “Seems that way, doesn’t it? I guess we just got lucky when Dwalin told us t’ come here.” He found the rope for the bucket and grabbed it, dragging it over. It was a harder task than one would think; the tubs were human-sized, not dwarven, so he had to reach over quite far. “Dori, Nori, an’ Ori asked for help an’ they got it. We ask for help an’ we get it.” He poured the water over his head, but didn’t use all of it –he still had to scrub his beard and mustache.

“We ask for ale refills and we get them, too,” Bifur joked, grabbing his own bucket and rinsing himself off. “In all seriousness, though: There’s a strong chance we may have to stay here for a few months. There is a _lot_ of work that needs done…And even if we had a bit of extra help, it’s not going to change the fact that it’ll take time.”

Bofur thought over his words as he leaned against the back of the tub. They would have to stay quite a bit longer than Dori, Nori, and Ori, who would be leaving towards the end of the week. Since he and Bifur were here to set up a permanent shop and not meet with potential business partners, it seemed they _would_ have to live in the inn.

Of course, they had a home back in Erebor—in fact, they had quite the elaborate mansion thanks to their share of the reward for helping reclaim the mountain. Despite that, it would be a hassle to walk an hour every morning to come to work only to finish a long day of labor and have to walk an hour to get back home. Looking at Bifur, he could tell that his cousin was going through the same thought process; he was muttering under his breath about travel.

“I don’t mind staying here,” he then blurted out, starting to rub some soap into his mustache. “Good food, good drink, good beds, an’ friendly people? What more could you want from a temporary home?”

Bifur, at this point, was scrubbing between his toes. “That is true,” he mumbled. He took a mental note to take the time that evening to trim his toenails; they were getting uncomfortably long. “Do you think Bombur would mind? After all, it means he’d be left in charge of things back there.”

“Nah, I don’t think he’d mind. He’s got Gerdi, Baraz, Berez, and Biriz to help him out if, for some reason, things go awry,” he said, rinsing his mustache. “But one of us will still have t’ go back and let him know what all is goin’ on.” Though, he was afraid about the amount of food his brother and his family (a beautiful wife and seven children, with an eighth in the oven) would consume from their pantry.

He had spent three days stocking that pantry.

Bombur better not have emptied it yet.

…He probably had.

“I can go,” Bifur stated, not noticing the small frown that had come to his cousin’s face.

Bofur shook his head, clearing it of thoughts of his brother and the pantry. “Aye, that’d make more sense. Knowin’ me, Buruz or Grid will have me tellin’ them stories while Sanna climbs all over me…I’d be stuck there for a week at the very least.” Grabbing a cloth, he started to scrub at the dirt on his arms and legs. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his left leg, inspecting the geometric bands of blue ink that encircled his calf. They had once been a rich, deep indigo in color; now they were about the color of a summer sky. “Goin’ t’ have to get this touched up sometime soon,” he muttered to himself.

“Have what touched up?”

He held up his leg for his cousin to see, pointing at the faded blue tattoo. “It’s faded. I’ll need a touch-up on it before it gets any lighter.”

Bifur squinted, scrutinizing the tattoo. He knew full well that all male dwarves (and some females) had them; they symbolized what clan they came from, what their jobs were, and even their prowess in battle. Quite a number of them covered his own body, many of them thanks to the large, deep scar in his forehead. Though, his favorite was an intricately-patterned star inked around his belly button—it didn’t really have much of a meaning; he had simply wanted a star.

“Dwalin could retouch it for you,” he replied at last. “He’s one o’ the best with tattoos.”

“Of course he’s good at doin’ tattoos—he’s done most o’ his own!” he snorted. “Except the ones on that thick skull o’ his. He had t’ get Balin to do those ones.” He now had his arms raised, inspecting the bands around his biceps. The inked skin, he saw, was still rather dark—a good thing, too, since those weren’t even a decade old yet. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that or else he’d bash _your_ skull in,” chuckled Bifur. By now, he was scrubbing at his arms, the water around him turning a grayish white in color. He tried to not notice it; the color disturbed him. Of course, he had been dirtier during baths before, but those, at least, had taken place in a river or stream so the water flowed away, _not_ remained around him.

Bofur snickered. “Then it’s a good thing he isn’t here t’ bash my skull in. Don’t think he could catch me, though…I’m faster than him.” He grinned cheekily at his cousin.

Bifur wore a small smirk as he stole a quick look at the younger dwarf. “He’s taller than you—he could _easily_ catch up to you.”

The cheeky grin disappeared and he rolled his eyes. “Oh shush, you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I just want to say thank you for the comments you've been leaving and the faves/follows that this has been getting! I also want to give a heads up that I have an instagram account where you can find random doodles and illustrations from both this story and 'Her Dreams Became Nightmares' as well as various other fandoms. My username is art.by.moose if you're interested :)

It was barely sunrise when Ori woke. Sitting up in his bed, he peered through the darkness, able to see the outlines of his brothers as they slept. Unlike them, he had had trouble sleeping; they would be leaving Dale the next day to go back to Erebor, but he did not want to go. Not yet. Not when he had only seen a small portion of the market and parts of the Full Tankard. There was still so much left to see, so much left to do…

Slipping out of bed, he did his best to be quiet while getting dressed. Not that he needed to be quiet: When his brothers were in a safe environment, they slept quite heavily. It was as he was scrubbing his face and beard in the water basin, however, that Nori let out a particularly loud snore, startling him and making him knock over the pitcher of water. His eyes widening, he lunged forward, catching it just before it could hit the floor. Panicked, he looked over and watched as Nori rolled over, pulling the covers closer to his head. Dori, too, was still asleep.

He put the pitcher back on the table, thankful it had been mostly empty, before moving to pull on his boots. After those, he fastened his belt around his waist and crept out of the room. Across the hall, he could hear Bifur’s snoring and he chuckled; Bofur was probably having a hard time sleeping with that kind of noise. Making his way down the stairs, he sniffed the air, smelling burning wood and bread.

Much to Ori’s surprise, Bofur was already sitting in the common room, a large mug of tea in his hand and his feet propped up on the hearth. His hat was sitting on the table behind him. He turned as the last two steps creaked under Ori’s weight, a smile coming to his lips as he saw the younger dwarf.

“Wouldn’t have expected you t’ be up yet, lad,” he said.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up, either,” he admitted. Bofur motioned for him to come sit and he moved to do such. “Was it Bifur’s snoring?”

Bofur grinned behind his mug as he took a drink of tea. “You could hear it, could you?” Ori nodded. “No, it wasn’t his snorin’; though that’s what kept me from goin’ _back_ to sleep. I had just gone t’ bed so early last night, I guess it was time for me t’ wake up.”

Nodding in understanding, Ori shifted slightly. He hadn’t ever really talked to Bofur without his brothers around—he knew he was a nice dwarf, it was just….his brothers normally did all the talking for him. As he stared into the fire, he wondered if any of the staff was up yet, only to remember that Bofur was drinking tea, which either meant they were or he had broken into the kitchen.

He wouldn’t put it past Bofur to do the latter.

“What about you, lad?”

“Hm?” Ori looked up, a slightly startled look on his face as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“Why are you up so early?” Another drink of tea. It wasn’t a drink he normally partook in, but it was good first thing in the morning. Especially when he knew he had another long day of labor ahead of him.

“Oh…” Ori turned back towards the fire. “Well…I was hopin’ to get some breakfast and then go explore the city without my brothers.”

Bofur tilted his head, curiosity on his face. “Why’s that?”

Ori shifted again. “Well…All this week, I’ve been havin’ to follow them around and take their notes for them. Aside from stopping by to see your shop yesterday, we’ve visited the same three buildings and the market—nowhere else. It’s quite boring, really.”

He nodded. “Sounds like it. I was never really fond of all that tradin’ business.” Leaning back in the chair, he tilted his head back and felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders stretch a bit. “Too much stuff t’ keep track of.” He, Bifur, and Will had spent a good portion of the previous day pulling up any and all rotten or broken wood they could find. While it hadn’t been as much as originally thought, it was still a fair amount. Especially considering that they had also knocked down the balcony’s roof.

“That’s why I want t’ get out of here before they wake up,” Ori sighed. “I’m not really interested in all that stuff. I mean, mum and dad had always tried to get me interested in it—you know, to keep up with the family business—but it was always Dori who was good at it. I’m just good at taking the notes…”

“Not everyone is made t’ take up the family trade,” Bofur said with a chuckle. “Mahal help me, I thought I was going to be a miner like my own dad, but then Bifur showed me how to carve wood and I realized toymakin’ was my calling.” He then pointed at the larger of the two books hanging from Ori’s belt. “I take it you plan on spendin’ the day filling up a few more pages in that?” he then asked, grinning slightly. He watched Ori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

“Maybe,” he replied shyly, glancing away. His hands unconsciously held onto the book, thumbs running over the parchment pages. “It’s fun drawin’ things that aren’t made by dwarrows. They’ve got so many different shapes to them. Kind of like drawin’ people.”

He quietly laughed before taking another drink of tea. “Anythin’ else you’ll do besides sit ‘n draw?”

“Just explore,” he replied, starting to lightly kick his feet. “Dale’s interestin’, especially with its layers.”

“Hm? What d’ya mean by ‘layers’?” He looked at him curiously, a brow raised.

Ori continued to stare at the fire. “Well, you’ve got the first layer o’ Dale—that’s the layer of when it was first built. You see it mostly in the first floors of the buildings, especially the unrestored ones: The cream-colored walls, the faded paints of the window boxes, the red tiles…Then you’ve got the second layer. That’s the layer that Smaug made when he terrorized the place. Half-destroyed buildings. Ruined pathways. Burnt things. Then there’s the last layer, which is everythin’ that’s been rebuilt.”

“Like our shop,” Bofur stated before he could stop himself. “Or the Full Tankard.”

“Or the market,” Ori nodded. “Lots o’ parts of the city are still in ruins because of how many lives were lost durin’ the War. Not enough people t’ fill them, even with folk from other parts coming to live here.”

Bofur looked over at him, studying his face. The lad still stared at the fire, but his head was tilted and he had a sort of dazed look about him. He knew the look. The same look would often come to Bifur’s face when he was making toys; it also used to come to Thorin’s face when he had been imagining their victory in reclaiming Erebor for the dwarves. Lightly shaking his head, he smiled fondly at Ori.

“You really enjoy bein’ around this different place, don’t you?” he asked after a moment.

As if realizing that he had been daydreaming, Ori looked down at his feet, his cheeks pink once again. “It’s interestin’ is all. I mean, we’re dwarrows. We grew up with other dwarrows and we learned dwarrow culture. Learnin’ about how other races live is jus’…interesting,” he muttered.

“I don’t blame you. The other races are vastly different from us, which is why they’re so interestin’,” he yawned. He made to take another drink of his tea only to find it gone. Grunting, he sat up and rubbed his lower back. “You hungry, lad?”

“A little bit…” he admitted.

Bofur stood and motioned for him to follow. The two dwarves walked across the empty common room, making for the kitchen door. Pushing it open, Bofur stuck his head and looked around, Ori soon shoving his head in beneath his arm. There were all sorts of shelves and counters in the kitchen, the former being filled to the brim with various sorts of food. Copper pots and iron pans hung from hooks in the ceiling while the larger, more-used pans hung above the hearth. In the center of the kitchen was a long, heavy table. It was at this table Baylee stood, kneading some sort of dough.

“Miss Baylee?” Bofur called. She looked up, some hair falling into her face. “Is it alright if I make myself more tea?”

“Feel free,” she smiled. Bofur walked into the kitchen, Ori shyly trailing along behind him. “G’morning, Master Ori! Would you like anythin’?” She paused her kneading and flattened the dough out before spooning some dried fruit into it. Ori walked over and she glanced at him, watching as he stood on tiptoe to peek over the jars and bowls in front of her work area.

“What are you makin’?” His head was tilted curiously as he watched her start to knead again.

“Fruit bread,” she replied. She plucked up the spoon again and pressed it against the fruit in the bowl. Warm mead filled the spoon and she sprinkled it over the dough as her other hand continued to work. “It’s the specialty here, though I haven’t been able t’ make it for some time due t’ being out o’ the right dried fruits.”

“It smells good,” he told her, “though that could just be the mead.” He smiled shyly as he glanced up at her.

She let out a small laugh. “Aye, it does smell good, doesn’t it?”

Bofur grabbed a cloth and used it to lift the kettle from the coals. “This whole room smells delicious,” he remarked. “If my brother, Bombur, were here, we’d have t’ tie him up with chains t’ keep him from eatin’ everything in here.” He poured the hot water over a tea strainer that he had filled with tea leaves. When his mug was full, he left the strainer in so it could steep.

“Bombur’s always hungry,” Ori explained to Baylee.

“He’s also about the size o’ the three of us put together,” Bofur chuckled. “Widthwise, that is.”

Plucking up the dough, she moved to set it in a ceramic loaf pan that she had buttered. “He sounds like a fellow who certainly appreciates his food,” she joked. Wiping her hands on her apron, she stepped off to the side of a large, metal door. “Lads may want t’ back up a few paces; this oven’s almost as hot as a blacksmith’s forge,” she gently warned. As they did so, she threw open the door and quickly stepped back just before a wave of heat came billowing out. The two dwarves watched as, for just a moment, the hot air made the area in front of the oven dance about.

“Huh. Not many human homes near the Blue Mountains had ovens,” Bofur commented.

“Not many here do, either,” she answered, putting in two pans of bread. She had six more to put in, so she quickly grabbed two more. “Onl’ us inn owners, the bakery, an’ the king have them.”

“Why the king?” Ori asked. “Does he do a lot of baking?”

Bofur stifled a laugh. “Because he has the money for it,” he answered, patting Ori on the shoulder.

“Oh…Well, I’d imagine he does at least some baking of his own. I mean, the oven would go to waste then.”

Baylee giggled as she put in the last two pans of bread. “No, Master Ori, he has a cook who does that for him—She’s actually the sister o’ our cook here! I daresay our Galiene’s a _touch_ better, though.” She closed the oven up, flinching as a part of her arm brushed against the hot metal. ‘First burn of the day,’ she thought. ‘Hope it’s the only one…’ Turning, she looked over at the two dwarves who were watching her with interest; it was the first time it really registered to her that she was nearly the same height as them. “So, you lads are hungry an’ I’m free t’ cook. What would ya like me t’ make?”

With large grins, the two dwarves began listing off the components they wanted in their meals. They were talking quite fast, making it sound as if they weren’t even pausing for breath. The trouble for Baylee, though, was that they were both speaking at the same time, making it more than a little difficult to decipher what they were saying besides the occasional ‘Ooh, I’ll have one o’ that, too!’

Chuckling, she suddenly held out her hands, bringing an end to their rambling. “Calm down, lads, calm down,” she laughed. “I can barely hear a word either o’ you are sayin’. Now, Bofur, you first.” Pulling over a stool, she sat down and crossed her arms on her knees, listening.

“I’ll have three fried eggs, some bacon, some potatoes, maybe a couple o’ biscuits…” he scratched his chin thoughtfully, “and to top it all off, how about a seed cake?”

She nodded slowly, committing the order to memory before looking at Ori. “And you, Ori?”

“A bowl o’ porridge, two fried eggs, four sausages, and I’ll have a seed cake as well, please,” he replied with a shy smile.

Baylee nodded again and stood up, brushing her apron off. “Alright, though I warn ya—it may take me a bit o’ time. Galiene normally doesn’t get in until the sun’s nice ‘n fully risen an’ the same goes for my auntie, so it’ll be just me doin’ the cooking…”

Bofur suddenly grinned; she had no idea whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. “Oh? Well, in that case, we’ll help you!” he chirped, clapping his hands together.

She blinked, her brow rising somewhat. “Y-you don’t have to,” she chuckled. “I mean, the two o’ you are guests here an’ it’s my job t’ cook an’ to serve—”

“Nonsense!” He had already set his tea down and Ori was making for the pans above the fireplace. “You’re the only one up and we want a lot o’ food; it’s the least we could do.” He headed over to the pantry door and opened it. He was met by rows of shelves filled with cured, smoked, and salted meats as well as other such items that were needed in a kitchen. It was thrice as much food as his pantry back home could fill and he was certain not even the pantry in Thorin’s kitchen held this much. “Oh…I think I just found the motherlode.” A silly grin had come to his face.

“Don’t stay in there too long!” Ori called, grabbing a coal scraper and using it to bring some more red-hot coals under an iron grate. He set a frying pan atop the grate, letting it heat up. “You’ll end up like Bombur!”

Baylee heard a laugh from the depths of the pantry and Bofur soon emerged, his arms laden with bacon, ham, potatoes, and ropes of sausage. “No need t’ worry lad— _I_ know how t’ treat a pantry!” he said as he came out and carried his bounty over to the counter.

“Careful you don’t drop the potatoes!” Baylee gently warned. She moved to get a knife so she could start peeling said potatoes, but before she had the chance to go very far, Ori hurried past her, excusing himself. “Do you need me to grab you a pot for the porridge?” she asked, now able to open the drawer and pull out a small knife.

“Don’t worry, Miss Baylee,” Ori smiled. “We’ve got it.”

Bofur crouched down, his hands clasped in front of him with his palms facing upwards. With surprising nimbleness for a dwarf, Ori hopped up. As his foot landed in Bofur’s palms, the older dwarf gave him a toss into the air. Upon reaching the apex of his ascent, Ori smacked the bottom of the largest pot, which sent it flying off its hook. Bofur caught him before he could hit the ground, setting him down in time for the pot to land neatly in Ori’s arms.

“Huh…an’ here, I always thought da’ and Lovisa were lying about the way dwarves behaved in the kitchen,” Baylee chuckled. As Ori hurried back across the kitchen, she plucked up a bucket and sat down, intent on peeling the potatoes.

“Knives in this drawer?” Bofur asked, pointing at the drawer she had just opened. “And who’s Lovisa?”

“Aye,” she said, starting to peel the potatoes. “Lovisa is mine an’ Will’s adopted aunt—she was our nursemaid when we were just wee things.” She glanced up in time to see him grab their largest knife –a meat cleaver. “O-oh, that may be a bit too big, Bofur.”

He shook his head, still wearing a grin. “It’s just the right size.” He separated four links of sausages from the chain and, with surprising swiftness, started to cut them into small rounds. “Ori!”

The younger dwarf quickly used the end of his tunic to grab the handle of the frying pan. He turned around just in time to catch all but two of the sausage rounds; they sizzled loudly as they hit the hot metal. The other two pieces landed on the floor at his feet and, after returning the pan to the grate, he picked them up. Seeing that they had only the tiniest bit of dirt on them, he blew the specks off and added them in with the rest; he would have never done such if he was making food for anyone else, but he and Bofur had eaten worse in the past. Grabbing a second pan, he set it over the grate to heat up as well as well.

Bofur glanced over at Baylee, seeing her peeling the potatoes. “So how do your father an’ your nursemaid know how we dwarrows behave in the kitchen, hm?” he asked, a bit of playfulness to his voice.

For some reason, she felt a bit of color come to her cheeks. “Well, before da’ was an innkeeper, he was a blacksmith. He had been apprenticed t’ the last full-blooded dwarf in Laketown—”

“Full-blooded? You mean there was a half dwarf?” Ori questioned, his eyes wide.

“Aye, an’ she just so happened t’ be Lovisa,” she chuckled. “She was the smith’s daughter. Because o’ them, da’ learned a lot about dwarvish culture. An’ it’s because o’ Lovisa that my family knows Iglishmêk.”

“Oh dear—looks like we’re goin’ to have t’ hold our fingers so you won’t catch us signing bad words,” Bofur laughed. He sliced himself up some bacon, making the slices a bit thicker than normal. “Ori, bacon!” He slid the slices of bacon onto the flat of the cleaver before flinging them across the room.

“I need a spatula, too!” Ori held up the second pan, catching the wad of bacon. Setting it back down, he used his fingers to separate out the pieces.

Bofur stood on his tiptoes, reaching over and sorting through various utensils that were in a jar. “Wood work?”

“Yes.”

“Catch!” He tossed over a wooden spatula and Ori caught it, stirring the meats. “Any particular reason why she taught ya Iglishmêk, lass? I can understand your dad learning, since he worked in a forge, but the rest o’ you…”

“See, there ya go with tossing things again!” she giggled. “And aye, we learned because Lovisa’s a mute. Though, it’s been quite helpful over the years when Will an’ me are tryin’ to be sneaky.” Still giggling, she stood up and set the bowl of peeled potatoes on the counter.

He beamed up at her. “A lot faster than walkin’ it over to him, isn’t it?” he joked. He watched as a bit of color came to her cheeks when she smiled back; probably from the heat of the kitchen, he supposed. It was getting rather warm, after all. “I’ll cut up the potatoes. Why don’t you start on the porridge?” Before she could refuse his offer, he took the potatoes from her and shooed her away from that part of the counter. “Hard t’ believe you an’ your brother ever used a silent language t’ be sneaky, though,” he joked.

“No offense t’ your brother of course, but I just can’t see him being the sneaky sort,” Ori admitted. “He’s just…so _big_.”

“Despite his size, he can be _extremely_ quiet if the need arises,” Baylee chuckled.

As if on cue, Will stepped into the kitchen, yawning. He blinked, having to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things; he wasn’t. Baylee turned and, spotting him, gave him a small wave.

“Morning, Will,” she chirped. “You hungry?”

He watched as Ori slid some pieces of crispy sausage onto a plate before pouring the cubes of potato into the same pan. “Er…Yes, I am,” he said. “Baylee, quick question.”

“The lads are in the kitchen because they’re helpin’ me cook,” she answered, as if reading his mind. “Let me guess, you want yourself a nice big bowl o’ porridge with three fried eggs on top?”

Will frowned, feeling his cheeks grow a bit red. “How did you know?”

“One, you’re my brother an’, after thirty years, I’d hope I knew what ya liked to eat in the morning. Two, you’re starin’ at the eggs Ori’s fryin’ up.”

Ori glanced up, his cheeks red from the heat of the fire. He gave Will a shy wave before moving to carefully put the finished eggs on a different plate.

“Have you even eaten?” Will asked, sniffing the air. Wandering over to the oven, he lifted the latch and took a quick peek inside. “These are almost done, ‘Lee.”

She sprinted over, shoving a wooden spoon in his hand before pushing him towards the porridge. Opening the oven door, she ducked as a wave of heat came out. Shaking his head, Will went to the stove so he could stir the porridge.

“That’ll be a no then,” he murmured. After stirring, he lifted the spoon and swiped his finger along its back. He frowned ever so slightly; it seemed to be missing something, but he wasn’t sure what. Looking down at Ori, he smiled tiredly. “So, what brings you two lil’ masters into our humble kitchen this early in the morning?”

“Well,” began Ori, “we like a lot o’ food with our breakfast and since Miss Baylee is only one person, we decided to help her out.” He cracked a few extra eggs into the pan as Bofur came over. “That one there,” he quietly told him, pointing at the empty pan.

“How much bacon do you think she likes?” he asked, his voice also quiet.

Ori glanced over his shoulder at the young woman. “Hmm…Five? She’s always runnin’ around this place; she could use the extra food.”

Bofur nodded in agreement, laying the slices of bacon in the bottom of the pan. “Egg’s ready to flip,” he murmured, pointing.

“Oh, thank you.” He moved to flip the eggs, being careful to not break the yolk.

Will raised his brow as he watched the two. Thanks to all the racket of pots and pans shuffling about and the scraping of the wooden peel against the floor of the oven, he couldn’t hear what they were saying—but he knew they were up to _something._ Just what, though, he couldn’t tell.

Through all noise, the sound of a key in a lock went unheard. When the back door opened, and in stepped Galiene and Gawen, everyone was more than a little surprised—including the pair walking in.

“What’s all this goin’ on in my kitchen?” Galiene demanded, hands moving to her hips. She wasn’t angered by the sight, but she was rather startled that there were _guests_ standing at her stove.

Almost instantly, Will pointed an accusing finger at Baylee, earning an ‘Oi!’ in protest. “All her! Not me! I’m just stirrin’ the porridge!”

Baylee rolled her eyes, a small pout on her lips. “We’re not ten anymore, fish brains.” She then smiled apologetically at the cook as she pulled the last two loaves of bread out of the oven. “I got some help makin’ some breakfast is all. Don’t worry; we’re almost done.”

“Actually, we _are_ done,” Ori chirped.

Turning around, she saw the two dwarves setting their food onto trays. Much to her shock, they had even cleaned up their work area. Galiene, too, seemed impressed that none of the cooking implements had been damaged.

“And we also made up plates for you an’ Will,” Bofur said, carrying a plate of eggs, bacon, and seed cake over to her. “Don’t want you two goin’ hungry, after all. Especially if he’s—” he pointed his thumb at William who was receiving a plate of three fried eggs to go with his eventual bowl of porridge, “—goin’ to be helping me an’ Bifur all day again.”

Once more, Baylee’s cheeks darkened as she took the plate from him. “Th-thank you,” she smiled. She hadn’t even seen the two of them cook up the extra food.

“You’re welcome, Miss Baylee,” he said with a grin before following Ori out of the kitchen, making sure to grab his tea.

~*~

It was past midday when Ori finally set down his pencil and leaned back against the wall. He let out a small curse of pain as he rubbed the back of his neck; he wasn’t quite sure how long he had spent hunched over, but he did know that he had a drawing taking up two pages in his sketchbook now. Smiling, he held up his sketchbook so he could compare his drawing to the scene before him.

His subject had been the carousal and surrounding shops located near the market. He remembered seeing it laying in a twisted knot of bronze and wood when he had passed through with the rest of Thorin’s company eight years ago; he shuddered at the unpleasant memory. But now, to see it restored and providing joy for children once more had warmed his heart and provided an excellent centerpiece to his illustration.

“Makes me wish I had some colors with me,” he murmured. “This would be good practice for them.” Though his sketches and drawings had improved greatly over the years, he still found it overwhelming to add color to them at times.

Closing his sketchbook, he leaned back against the wall for a few moments. It was nice, to see Dale with so much color and life, though he had to admit, exploring the parts that were still in ruin had been a bit fun. He had spent most of the morning filling six pages that were dedicated to sketches of buildings, walls, and gardens that had yet to be repaired.

In some cases, he had even managed to find the long-decayed remains of orcs from the Battle of Five Armies.

‘I wonder how upset Dori and Nori are going to be with me?’ he thought. ‘Well…I doubt Nori will be too upset—he’s always telling Dori to let me go off on my own like this. But Dori…he’s definitely going to be three shades of upset.’ Closing his eyes, he let out a small, content sigh. ‘I do really like it here in Dale, though…As much as I love Erebor, it’s all familiar to me. Everything’s angular green marble; but here, it’s all sorts of different colors and shapes. The _people_ are all sorts of different colors and shapes, too.’

Another sigh left his mouth. ‘I wonder if I’d be able to convince them to let me stay here an extra couple of weeks on my own…? I doubt it, but it’d be worth a shot. It’s not like I’d be alone, either—Bofur and Bifur are here. Not that they’d need to keep an eye on me, of course. I know how to take care of myself and they’ve got their shop to work on.’

He opened his eyes again and looked down at his stomach as it grumbled with hunger. “Time to find some food, I guess,” he murmured with a chuckle.

Packing up his things, he stood up and started to make his way towards the market. The closer he got, the more he was able to smell the cooked foods being sold by vendors. Whenever he and his brothers had passed through during the week, there had been one particular vendor he wanted to visit, but Dori had made them go elsewhere.

“Two chicken pasties and one fruit pasty, please,” he said, approaching the older woman. As he spoke, he pulled out some coins to pay her with.

“Careful with these, dearie,” the woman gently cautioned, “they all came out o’ the oven not too long ago, so they’ll be as hot as fire.” She wrapped each pie up in a bit of paper before handing them to Ori, who tucked them away in his pocket.

“Thank you very much,” he smiled, handing over the coins. “Have a good day.”

“You, too, dearie!” The corners of her eyes crinkled up as she smiled at him.

Smiling as well, he turned and headed for the fountain in the very middle of the market square. It was octagonal in its shape and had quite a bit of dwarvish influence to its design. It wouldn’t have been anything terribly special to look at (in Ori’s opinion, at least) except that it, like many parts of Dale, was painted in bright blues and yellows.

‘Dwalin would probably think it’s garish,’ he thought to himself. Pulling out one of the pies—he couldn’t remember if it was a chicken or the fruit one—he took a bite from it. As the woman had said, it was hot, but it wasn’t too hot for him to handle. ‘He’s never been too fond of yellow. Then again, that’s mostly because he says it’s one of the harder pigments to use when tattooing…’

A small sigh left his mouth as he took another bite. Looking around, he searched for any potential points of interest that he might be able to draw later. ‘It’s been nearly two months since I’ve last seen him…I hope he’s doing alright. I know Thorin’s kept him busy with the reorganization of the army and the arrangement of security for Kili’s upcoming wedding. I do miss him, though.’

Scanning the rooftops of the city, he spotted a tower in the distance; as he squinted somewhat, he could see that it was one of the ancient bell towers. From where he sat, it looked to be in nearly perfect condition—or, rather, perfectly restored condition.

‘I wonder if I could draw something from up there?’ Taking yet another bite of pie, he shifted slightly, turning so that he could look at the areas behind him. There was another bell tower in the distance, but unlike the first, it was in the middle of being restored to its former glory. ‘Definitely won’t be drawing from that one.’

As his eyes moved further up the city, he could see the massive great hall where he knew King Bard lived. ‘To do a drawing from all the way up there would be interesting. Doubt I could get close to it, though. He probably has guards stationed all over the place.’

When he finished the first pasty, he got up and started to walk in the direction of the first bell tower. As he walked, he pulled out a second pie, which turned out to be the fruit one. Occasionally, he would glance up to make sure he was still going in the correct direction and, to his surprise, the path led him past Bofur and Bifur’s shop.

Pausing in his steps, he thought about going in to see how things were coming. Out of nowhere, though, he heard a shout from the roof. Looking up, he was just in time to see Will and Bofur heaving the rotting roof off of the balcony with what appeared to be Bofur’s mattock and some sort of war hammer. It disappeared over the side of the building and, a few seconds later, there was a loud crash as it hit the ground behind the shop. The dwarf and human let out victorious cries.

“I think I’ll leave them be for now,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

It didn’t take him much longer to reach the tower—only about ten minutes. He spent another ten minutes climbing the winding stairs up to the top. By the time he reached the landing, he was quietly panting and a fine sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow. He was used to climbing stairs, but these ones were steeper than what he was used to.

Walking to the railing, he leaned against it as he tried to catch his breath—but it was in vain, as the sight before him took his breath away.

From where he stood, he could see the entire city and the lands surrounding it. The clouds above had parted, bathing everything in the warm, yellow-gold sunlight of early spring. Below him, a good portion of Dale looked as if it were a field of poppies thanks to the red clay of the rooftiles. Patches of blue and yellow could be seen from the painted facades of buildings and, on the far side of the market, he could just barely make out cloth awnings in all sorts of colors and designs.

Turning his gaze towards the mountain, he felt his lips curl into a bit of a smile as he saw the hard-won gates of Erebor. They stood tall and mighty, having taken centuries to carve. After the havoc Smaug had wrecked inside, along with the bit of destruction created by him and other members of Thorin’s Company, the gates had been repaired. They had also been cleansed of the filth brought by the dragon and the welcoming fires of Erebor burned brightly once more. Dwarves had returned to their ancestral homes and, despite having grown used to all the green marble and angular designs, Ori couldn’t help but admit that it was still a beautiful sight to behold.

He pulled out his sketchbook and his pencils, opened up to the next set of blank pages, and began to draw.


	5. Chapter 5

The Full Tankard was _crowded_.

A group of fifteen elves, remembering the good food and drink of the inn from before the War had come to stay at for a few nights. As was usual whenever groups of elves visited, many humans had flocked to the inn so that they could eat, drink, and be merry with the fair folk. And eating and drinking they were: Galiene had to pull Demelza from serving to help her and Gawen cook while Wenna, Baylee, and Warren hurried about, delivering food and refilling drinks. And standing at the sink was Demelza’s husband, Richard, who was washing dishes as fast as he could.

“I’m sorry, Galiene, but we need another three bowls o’ stew an’ a platter o’ roasted vegetables.” On her way over to the piles of stacked loaves of bread and rolls near the oven, Baylee grabbed a cloth-lined basket. She then grabbed a large handful of the rolls, hurriedly putting them into the basket. Seeing that it wasn’t nearly enough, she added a second and third handful.

“I forgot just how much food a group o’ elves can eat!” Galiene groaned as she grabbed three bowls to fill. Despite how much work she and the others had to do, the music and laughter outside the kitchen was nice to hear—it had been a while since such a gathering had taken place.

“Twice as much as a group o’ men an’ nearly as much as a group o’ dwarves,” Demelza laughed from her cooking station. “Gawen, lad, how’re those onions coming along?” Holding onto a pan’s handle with her apron, she gave it a shake and then a small flick, sending its contents into the air only to catch them again.

“Nearly done! Just one left!” the lad called, his eyes not leaving the large onion he was chopping. “Half goes to Galiene and the other to you, aye?”

“Aye, lad! Then we’ll need those potatoes peeled an’ cubed.”

Wenna came hurrying into the kitchen, her cheeks red and some of her raven curls sticking to her forehead and cheeks. “It’s crazy out there,” she panted, needing to lean against the counter for a moment. “I don’t recall the inn _ever_ being this full!”

“That’s because you’ve only been here a few months,” Baylee chuckled. Opening the knife drawer, she pulled out the cheese knife and made her way to the pantry. “Just wait until summer!” she called. “Then you’ll know _true_ chaos!”

Groaning, Wenna used her hand to fan herself. “I need an order o’ chips, a plate o’ cooked vegetables, an’ a block of cheese,” she told the cooks. “It’s for Abbot an’ Bill. They say take your time, they can wait.”

“Oh, blessings upon those dears—take them some fruit bread an’ the cheese at least,” Demelza told her. “Tell them the bread’s a reward for patience.”

“Aye, I’ll do that.”

Baylee emerged from the pantry, three large chunks of cheese in her arms. “Wenna, catch,” she called, tossing one of the blocks across the kitchen.

Wenna let out a small curse as she was _just_ able to catch it. “Give me a bit more warning next time, ‘Lee!” she told her.

“Sorry—thought it’d be quicker,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “It’s what the dwarves do when they’re cookin’, at least.”

“Baylee, order’s up,” Galiene called.

Setting the two remaining blocks of cheese on the same tray as the bread basket, Baylee lifted it up and took it over to Galiene, who added the platter of vegetables to it. She had already set the three bowls of stew on a second platter, which Baylee also lifted. Both trays she balanced on her palms as she left the kitchen.

Weaving her way around the tables and half-intoxicated patrons, she was finally able to deliver the meals to a group of young women (a couple of them being Primrose’s sisters) who were sitting right next to the table of elves. Their cheeks were pink as they giggled flirtatiously as a few of the male elves spoke with them. As Baylee put the bowls of stew, the cheese, and the bread basket down, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Turning, she saw a redhaired elf woman smiling apologetically at her; upon her brow sat a circlet that was most certainly _not_ of elven design. Rather, it was quite obviously dwarven. “Lady Baylee, I do apologize, but I’m in need of a refill,” she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music. She held up an empty wine chalice.

Baylee smiled, taking the cup from her. “Not a problem,” she assured her. “I’ll have it t’ ya in just a minute!” Tucking the platters under her arm, she wormed her way back through the crowd to the bar.

She was in the middle of refilling the goblet when she happened to look over at the door only to find it opening. She swallowed a bit hard; they didn’t have much room for any more customers, nor did they have enough staff to tend to many more patrons. Normally, they would have this volume of patrons during the summer, when they also had more hired help.

To her relief, however, it was Will, Bofur, and Bifur who entered. All three were covered in bits of dust and wood shavings, but they wore victorious smiles.

Spotting his sister, Will headed over to her. “Well, well, looks like there’s a bit o’ a party going on!”

“Aye, an’ it’s been goin’ for nearly two hours now,” she replied with a breathless laugh.

“What’s the occasion?” Bofur had followed Will over while Bifur went to go find Nori and Dori.

“Elves,” she replied. “They’re here to celebrate—something. I’m not sure, to be honest.” Turning, she was met by the sight of Warren and Wenna approaching her; each had a tray of mugs. “…Drinks for the elves?”

“Aye, an’ there’s a few more comin’—the whole table was out,” Warren told her. He smiled over at his son and Bofur, barely batting an eye as Baylee took both trays and Wenna hurried off to get the rest of the cups. “You two look like you’ve had a good day o’ hard work!”

“We brought down the roof o’ the balcony,” Bofur grinned. He watched as Baylee stood on her tiptoes to fill one of the mugs; he wondered what it contained. “An’ started work on bringing down a couple o’ walls.”

Warren laughed. “That does sound like a good day’s work,” he grinned. Seeing someone waving him down, he excused him.

“Beer or ale?” Will asked, reaching under the bar and grabbing two tankards.

“Ah, gimmie a good ol’ beer, please,” he grinned. “Does one o’ the elves happen t’ be wearing a dwarven circlet, lass?”

Baylee glanced over at him, her brow rising slightly. “Aye. Do ya know her?”

“Aye, I do! Not well, though, but well enough t’ call her an acquaintance,” he laughed. “She’s Tauriel, the bride o’ Prince Kili! She must be here t’ celebrate the upcoming nuptials. Evidently, it’s some sort of elven tradition t’ celebrate about four months ahead o’ the actual wedding date.”

“I was going to say, I thought their wedding was happening in the summer,” Will chuckled. He handed Bofur a full tankard of beer before filling the other two with ale; Bifur had mentioned how he wanted ale on their walk home.

Baylee laughed. “Well, it certainly explains why they’re drinkin’ so much tonight!” She pouted ever so slightly as Will reached down, tousling her hair.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, ‘Lee,” he told her. “After I have a drink, I’ll try an’ help out.”

Glancing up at him, she grinned. “You better. Even Uncle Richard is in the kitchen helpin’.” As he walked off to take the ale to Bifur, she shook her head. “So ya know the future princess o’ Erebor?”

He nodded slightly as he took a drink of his beer, some foam clinging to his mustache. “Aye, me, Bifur, an’ the Ri brothers all know her—all o’ the company knows her, actually.”

She gave him a curious look as she set one tankard down and grabbed another. “Company?” Once again, she stood on her tiptoes.

“Oh, aye. We all were part o’ the Company o’ Thorin Oakenshield,” he explained. He didn’t seem to mind the shocked look she was gave him. “Thirteen o’ us there are. Well, fourteen includin’ Mr. Baggins, our burglar, but he wasn’t a dwarf. Nope. He was a hobbit.” A fond, reminiscent smile came to his lips as he remembered the smallest member of their troupe.

Baylee watched him for a moment as he spaced out. “I never expected t’ be servin’ some of Thorin’s companions,” she said at last. Peering into the tankard, she found it almost full and started to stem the flow of mead into it.

“Hm?” He shook his head as he was drawn from his thoughts, braids and mustache bouncing slightly. “Why’s that, lass?”

“Well, I always thought you lot were high ranking nobles an’ knights or somethin’,” she admitted, her cheeks turning a bit pink with embarrassment. Yet again, she switched out the full mug for an empty wine goblet. “After all, no one ever imagines ordinary folk being able t’ reclaim entire kingdoms.”

He smiled at her and chuckled. “But it’s those folk who make the best stories, isn’t it?” He took another drink of his beer.

She wasn’t sure why, but her cheeks grew a bit warmer when he smiled. “Aye, I suppose that’s true,” she agreed with a small laugh.

His smile turned a bit cheeky. “Though, t’ be fair, I am kind of a high rankin’ noble _now_ ,” he half-joked. “Not that I look or act the part. Bifur, me, and my brother all came from quite humble beginnings.” He watched as another drinking vessel was switched out and he frowned slightly as he realized that she wasn’t just randomly filling them. “…Do you remember what drink each mug gets?” he then asked.

“Aye, I do,” she replied. Kneeling down, she filled the last tankard with cider.

“But how? All the mugs look the same, as do the goblets.”

“Oh, they all have their differences. Like this tankard has a large scratch along the bottom while another has a dent in the handle…” Standing up, she started to arrange the drinks on the platters. “My memory is strange; from what I’ve learned, when most people think, it’s just words an’ vague pictures. But my memory is very clear pictures an’, in some cases, entire scenarios. While it’s good for waitressin’, it’s a burden in other aspects o’ life.”

He nodded slowly, an intrigued expression on his face as he absorbed the information. “I suppose that makes sense,” he said. Then, seeing her frown, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head before pulling back her hair. “Nothing’s wrong. Just wasn’t anticipating on havin’ to do this tonight.” Quickly weaving her hair into a braid, she twisted it around the top of her head like a crown. Then, reaching into her apron pocket, she brought out a hair stick, which she then wove through her hair to hold it in place.

“An’ just what is this ‘ _this’_ you’re talkin’ abo—” His eyes widened as she picked up one of the trays and placed it atop her head. “Oooh, _that’s_ what you mean…Isn’t that a wee bit dangerous, lass?”

“I’ve done it plenty o’ times,” she assured him. Despite her words, there was a look of concentration on her face as she gathered up the other two trays and balanced them on her palms. Before Bofur had the chance to offer taking one of the trays, she walked out from behind the bar and headed towards the crowd.

Clutching his beer, Bofur watched her for a few seconds. From where he stood, he could see where the table of elves was, but what he _couldn’t_ see was a clear path between the bar and the table. Shaking his head, he hurried after Baylee and quickly overtook her due to the caution she was taking with her steps.

“Oi, scooch it, lads! Lady with lots o’ drinks comin’ through,” he called out, lightly pushing a way through the crowd for her. “C’mon, you don’t need _that_ much leg room. Out o’ the way!”

Baylee blinked, more than a little surprised when Bofur appeared in front of her. When she saw that he was making her a path, however, she smiled in relief. She had woven her way through thick, unpredictable crowds like this before, but they had always been nerve-wracking experiences filled with near-misses. To have a relatively open path was a most-welcomed change.

When they reached the table, the elves gave her a hearty cheer for her successful trip. One of them removed the platter from atop her head while she set the other two on the table top. As she returned all the goblets and tankards to their owners, some of the elves gave her friendly pats on the back and offered her congratulations. Once everyone had their drinks once more, she then asked if they needed more food. More relief filled her when they assured her they had everything they needed.

Gathering up the empty trays, she turned to find that Bofur had wandered off—she couldn’t blame him. From where she stood, though, she could see that he had gone over to the dwarves’ table, which she had begun referring to as ‘the lads’ table’. With her trays in hand, she went over to the table. She saw that Will was gone, leaving her hopeful that there would be a little less chaos since he had offered to help.

“That was some stunt you just pulled there, lass,” Nori chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human balancing somethin’ on their head like that before.”

She laughed. “It’s something my mum taught me to do when I was little—well, _littler_. It’s come in handy over the years, though this was the first time I had someone clearin’ a path for me.” She looked at Bofur, offering him a thankful smile. “Thank you, by the way, for doin’ that.”

He shrugged slightly, a bit of a cheeky grin on his lips. “Couldn’t risk lettin’ you spill so much good drink,” he told her.

“Still. I really appreciate it,” she told him. “Do any o’ you lads need anything? More drink, more stew…?”

Bifur shook his head. “No, no need t’ worry about us, lass. Your brother’s gone off to get some food for us.”

“However, if you see Ori,” Dori spoke up, “you may want t’ warn him that he’s in for one big scolding when he gets back?” Though he wore a smile and laughed at his words, Baylee could tell that he was nervous about Ori’s whereabouts.

“I’ll do my best to remember,” she replied, a small chuckle leaving her mouth. “Give a holler if you lads need anything, alright? We _might_ be able t’ hear it over all this racket.” Heading off, she was more than a little surprised that no one tried to stop her as she made her way to the kitchen.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she could see Will ladling stew into four bowls. She placed one of the empty trays next to him before setting the others on the counter. Looking around, she saw her uncle still at the sink and Gawen stirring the contents of a frying pan. Galiene and Demelza, though, were nowhere to be seen.

“Where—”

“Outside, getting some fresh air, along with Wenna,” Gawen replied before she could finish. “It’s finally startin’ to quiet down, so they’re takin’ the opportunity to have a moment of peace.”

“Aye, and you may want t’ go take a breather yourself, love,” Richard told her. Setting a clean bowl atop a stack of already-cleaned bowls, he turned around. Leaning against the sink, he sighed heavily. “There’s no tellin’ when that crowd’s going to get their second wind. And from what your brother said, you already had t’ pull your balancing stunt once tonight.”

At that, Gawen glanced over his shoulder at her. “Balancing stunt?” he repeated, confused. “What’s he talkin’ about?”

Using the top of her apron to wipe some sweat from her face, she sighed. “I can balance a tray atop my head,” she explained, “though, I tend t’ only do it on nights that are really busy, like tonight. Normally, it’s a bit dangerous, considering how unpredictable a room full o’ half-drunken patrons is, but tonight I actually had some help gettin’ a clear path.” She climbed onto the counter, grabbing one of the small, wooden cups normally used only by her family and the staff.

Richard let out a small laugh and crossed his arms. “Did ya now? How did that happen?”

“Bofur walked ahead o’ her and made people get out o’ the way,” Will answered for his sister, his tone amused. “’Lee, can you toss me two loaves of bread?” He caught the bread as she chucked it across the room to him before putting it on the tray. Picking it up, he left the kitchen.

“That was awfully nice o’ him,” Richard commented. “Then again, he and his fellow dwarves are quite nice lads. Quite polite for dwarves, too…”

Baylee snorted. “You say that as if every dwarf you’ve met has been rude, uncle.” Sliding off the counter, she made her way to the back door.

“No, no, definitely not every dwarf—Lovisa’s extremely polite, after all. But there have been a few dwarves I’ve met that weren’t…exactly nice.” He shook his head. “Never mind that, though. Go have yourself a small break while things are still quiet.”

Smiling, she nodded and headed out the door, still holding the cup. Once outside, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light, but she was soon able to see Wenna, Galiene, and Demelza sitting on the edge of the well. She headed over to them, intent on both getting a drink of water and to join in with any potential gossip.

“I wonder how long they’ll be here for?” Demelza questioned.

Galiene shook her head and leaned back against the support for the well’s crank system. “No idea, but something tells me it’s going to be for more than just a single night.”

“I sure _hope_ it’s for more than a night.” Wenna let out a dreamy sigh. “Those elf men sure are handsome.”

“Now don’t you go startin’ to daydream, Wenna,” Baylee chuckled, startling the three women. “The last thing we need is for you t’ start getting flirty with them.”

Wenna pouted. “Oh, come off it—ya know I wouldn’t flirt with customers. At least, not while I’m workin’.” At that, the other women cracked up. “What? It’s true!”

“Aye, we know, lass,” Demelza assured her, still chuckling. “You’ve actually been a very big help tonight, all things considerin’. You an’ Baylee certainly do a much better job than Warren.”

Baylee giggled, starting to turn the crank to pull up some water. “Papa’s not too bad when it comes t’ hosting, but he’s definitely better behind the bar, filling drinks.” Once the bucket was within reach, she leaned over and simply dunked her cup into it. A small shiver ran down her spine as she felt her hand engulfed by the icy water. Raising the cup to her lips, another shiver went through her body as the water slid down her throat.

Galiene nodded in agreement. “Aye, I’ll agree to that,” she chuckled. “But only because he ends up talkin’ with the customers for too long an’ forgets what their order is when he finally makes it back t’ the kitchen!”

Wenna quietly giggled. “You would think he’d know better by now.”

“Papa’s always been like that, though,” Baylee chuckled. “Even when we had the Tankard down in Laketown, he’d constantly be stopping t’ chitchat with folk. Which is why he was normally left t’ bar duty—he can talk an’ fill drinks at the same time. With taking food orders, though…” She shook her head and refilled her cup.

“Oh, he’s been extra bad with it lately,” Demelza told her. “You don’t know how many times I’ve had to scold him for lollygagging about because he keeps stopping t’ talk with those dwarves. I can only imagine tonight’s it’s going to be even worse if he starts talking with the elves— _especially_ if they get him talkin’ in elvish with them.”

At that, Wenna cocked her head. “Mr. Braddock can speak elvish?”

“Both Sindarin an’ Quenya,” Baylee replied. She squinted slightly; she thought she could see some movement coming from near the courtyard’s archway.

“There’s more than one elvish language?”

“O’ course there is, lass, just like there’s more than one type of elf,” Demelza chuckled. “Practically every realm in Middle Earth has its own language—you should know that, being that you know Esgarothian in addition to Westron.”

“‘Esgarothian?’” Galiene laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard our language called that. I may have t’ start usin’ that, Demelza.”

Demelza frowned. “Well then, what _do_ you call it?”

“We’ve always just called it the language o’ Laketown.”

As the women continued to discuss the various languages of Middle Earth, Baylee set her cup down and started to walk towards the archway. Though the voices of the women started to fade, she started to hear a new set of voices. Partially hiding herself behind the archway, she peered around the corner, where, through the dim light, she saw three men huddled around something.

“What’s this, then, eh?” The tallest of them stepped forward and grabbed at something. She recognized his voice: Frederick Potts, a hooligan that liked to loiter around the inns at night in hopes of robbing a few coins.

“W-will you just go away!? I have nothing of value!” Baylee’s eyes narrowed; that was most definitely Ori’s voice.

“Then why you holdin’ that thing so close, huh?” Another man stepped forward, this one she knew to be Bartholomew Twains, Frederick’s long-time accomplice. The third man she didn’t recognize, but that didn’t matter—he was up to no good as well.

Being as quiet as she could, she made her way over to the door of the inn, hoping that she would find the broom leaning against the wall. Getting closer, she found that it was still there and sighed in relief. ‘For once, Wenna, thank you for _not_ doing as I asked,’ she thought as she grabbed it.

Still being quiet, she turned the broom over so that she gripped it near the bristles. Slowly, she came up behind the three men.

“If you really want us t’ go away, then give us some coin,” Bartholomew snickered.

“I _told_ you, I don’t have any coin!” Ori snapped.

“Then you’ll just have t’ suffer the punishment, now won’t ya?” Frederick said, his tone threatening. He closed his hand into a fist and drew back his arm.

Slipping the broom handle into the crook of his arm, Baylee yanked him backwards. As he cried out and fell backwards, she swung the broom handle at Bartholomew. It struck him across the face with enough force that he was sent stumbling backwards.

Before the third man could run away, Ori quickly shoved his foot out. Not seeing it in the dark, the man tripped over him, falling flat on his face.

“This is the last time you three harass one o’ our customers!” Baylee snapped, loud enough that she knew her aunt and the others heard her. As Frederick tried to get up, she stepped on his chest, forcing him back down. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, Frederick Potts. Neither are you, Bartholomew Twain!” Keeping her weight (which, truthfully, wasn’t very much) planted on Frederick’s chest, she used the broom to sweep Bartholomew’s legs out from under him. “Ori, be a dear an’ grab that one, please.”

Nodding, he reached down and snatched the man by the back of his shirt before he could crawl away. Just as he did, Demelza, Galiene, and Wenna came hurrying out of the courtyard.

“What’s going on here?!” Demelza growled. Seeing the three men on the ground, she swore under her breath. “You again, Potts and Twain?” Walking over, she grabbed the back of Bartholomew’s shirt and yanked him to his feet.

“Looks like they’ve got Jarek Fletcher helpin’ them out now, too,” Wenna grumbled. “Good thing there’s some city guardsmen in the inn tonight. We can finally get these twits behind bars for a while.”

“We wasn’t doin’ nothin’!” Frederick snapped, trying to wriggle free as Baylee pulled him to his feet by the neck of his shirt. Wenna walked over, grabbing the back of his tunic and relieving her of the burden.

“Says the one who was getting ready to hit me because I wasn’t going to give you my coin,” Ori frowned. He looked up as Galiene came over and grabbed Jarek by the ear.

“You said you didn’t have coin!” Bartholomew growled.

“Shut it, you idiot!” Jarek snapped.

“It’s too late, you three idiots,” Demelza snapped. None-too gently, she started to drag Bartholomew towards the inn, Galiene and Wenna following behind with the other two.

Baylee turned to Ori, guilt on her face. “I’m so sorry about that, Ori,” she told him. “They didn’t hurt ya, did they?”

“N-No, I’m fine,” he replied, one hand clutching his sketchbook to his chest. He felt rather silly for not dealing with the three men on his own; he knew he could have easily over taken them. “Thank you, by the way…For helping me out. I guess I’m more used to facin’ down orcs rather than humans.”

She gave him an understanding smile. “Aye, orcs make it fairly easy to hit them, don’t they? Bein’ that they’re so mean lookin’ and ugly.”

He tilted his head slightly. “…You’ve…fought orcs?”

“Aye, I have,” she said with a small nod. She could just barely see his eyes widened in shock. “Just once, though, an’ that was enough for me.”

“I-I thought you may have known how to fight,” he admitted. “The day your brother came back, you were holdin’ your serving tray like a shield and you stood in the right position to defend yourself with a sword or axe.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling. “A good portion o’ my family is made up of former warriors,” she explained, “so they made sure Will an’ me—an’ our cousins—could defend ourselves if ever the need arose. Though, I’m pretty rusty now.”

He smiled, a small laugh leaving his mouth. “Could have fooled me. You took down those two pretty skillfully.”

At that, she snorted. “Only because they were distracted. Otherwise, there’s no way I would have been able t’ take them—with a broom, at least.” Looking over her shoulder at the inn, she set the broom over her shoulder as if it were a sword. “Well, shall we head inside? It’s a bit chaotic in there, I’m afraid. A party o’ elves came in from Mirkwood today an’ whenever there’s elves, there are people wanting to see an’ flirt with them.” She looked back at him, a smile on her lips. “Apparently, you know one o’ them.”

He frowned. “I don’t know any—” A look of realization quickly came to his face and he laughed. “Oh, you mean Tauriel!” He moved to start walking towards the door.

“Aye. Apparently, she’s here celebrating her upcoming weddin’ to Prince Kili. Or, at least, that’s what Bofur told me.” She turned and walked alongside him, brushing some hair from her face.

As they neared the door, it suddenly flung open. A pair of men came out, dragging the three would-be thieves alongside them. The men were shouting and struggling, but they weren’t able to escape the firm grips of the men.

“Evenin’, Miss Braddock,” one of the men said. “Just takin’ the filth out for ya.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” she smiled. “An’ thank you, too, Henrik. I’m sorry your meals got interrupted.”

“It’s fine! Especially since it means _finally_ gettin’ these three off the streets!”

Ori glanced up at her. “You seem to know a lot of people.”

“Well, when you run an inn, a lot o’ people come to drink an’ eat at your establishment,” she replied with a small laugh. “But I only know ‘bout a quarter of the people who live in Dale now. The rest are new folk who’ve come in from Dorwinion, Rohan, an’ even some from Gondor.” Her brow rose; the music inside seemed to have gotten louder.

“Really? That many have moved here?”

“Aye. A good portion o’ the Laketown folk wanted to return to the Long Lake and rebuild—can’t blame them. Rebuilding from the lakebed up seemed far less daunting than repairing an’ rebuilding Dale.” She set the broom against the wall before opening the door and stepping inside. Her eyes widened slightly and she let out a hearty laugh.

Ori poked his head under her arm, looking to see what had happened. His eyes widened as well; all the tables and chairs had been shoved off to the sides of the common room, leaving the middle of the room wide open. The musicians had gathered near the fireplace, playing a loud and lively tune as people danced about.

“I wasn’t expecting a party when I was coming back,” he laughed. If there was a party going on, then there would be a slim chance that Dori would be in the mood for scolding him.

“An’ I wasn’t expectin’ the dancing to happen so soon!” she laughed. “I guess our break was longer than expect—” She suddenly let out a squeak as her arm was grabbed.

Ori laughed as he watched Will run up and pull his sister onto the dance floor, a wide, cheeky grin on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

“No. No, no, _no!_ Absolutely not!”

“Why not?! I’m one hundred, Dori! I’m more than old enough t’ stay here on my own!” Ori glared at his brother from across the table, a defiant pout on his lips.

“You know next to nothing about the ways of Men, though!” Dori argued. “And Dale is a place where there are all sorts of different cultures mixing; what if you were t’ get in trouble because you accidentally offended someone?”

Nori suddenly snorted, drawing the attention of his brothers.

“And just what do you find so funny, Nori?” Dori demanded. He stabbed one of his sausages with his knife and took a bite out of; his chewing was bit harder than normal thanks to frustration.

“The fact that you think _Ori_ o’ all dwarrows is going t’ offend someone,” he replied, moving the stem of his pipe out of his mouth. He lightly shook his head. “I agree with Ori—he’s old enough to stay here if he wants to. Mahal’s blessing, it’d be _good_ for him to stay here without us. You mother him so much, I’m afraid the lad’s going to end up just as awkward as poor old Cousin Yoni.”

At his words, Ori scrunched up his nose in distaste and Dori glared at Nori. “I’m _not_ mothering him, Nori,” he argued. “Ori’s never been out on his own before! The lad hardly remembers to grab his hood before he leaves the mansion, let alone know how to handle himself on the streets of a city of Men!”

Nori blew a ring a smoke at his older brother, making him cough slightly. “And how is he supposed to learn if you don’t give him the chance?” Grabbing his cup, he took a drink from the cider within it.

“Exactly,” Ori agreed. “You let me come with you on the quest t’ reclaim Erebor, so why can’t I spend a few measly weeks in a city right at the foot o’ the mountain?” He held his biscuit down with his spoon so he could cut a piece off of it before swiping it through some gravy and popping it into his mouth.

“Where will you stay? And how will you pay for those lodgings?” Dori demanded.

“I’ve already talked it over with Bofur and Bifur. They said I could stay in their room, since they’ve got three beds,” he told him, his tone now somewhat victorious. “As for money, I’ve barely spent any of the coin I brought with me because I haven’t had the chance. I have enough to last me a good while if I’m not overzealous.”

Nori chuckled, moving his pipe aside once more so he could take a bite of his porridge. “See? He’s already thought out everything ahead o’ this. That already shows that he’s mature enough t’ stay here without us.”

Dori grumbled under his breath. “I wish you gave us a bit more warning,” he sighed, rubbing his temple as he admitted defeat. “We have meetings almost every day this upcoming week and you’re the one with the notes…”

“I already put that notebook into your belongings,” Ori told him. “Everything in it is labeled and each business you’re working with has their own section. You’ll be able to find any and all information you need quite easily.”

“Are you _sure_ you have enough coin t’ last you as long as you need it?”

Before Ori could answer, a quiet, clucking sound came from Nori; it was identical to that made by a chicken.

“Oh, don’t you start that, Nori!” Dori scolded. “I just want to make sure he—”

Nori clucked again, this time the sound a bit louder.

“Will you—”

Ori cracked up as Nori started to cluck louder and louder, sounding very much like a chicken who was in the midst of laying an egg. Tucking his hands against his shoulders, he waved his arms about as if they were wings and started to bob his head. With his rather pointed hair, the effect was rather comical. “Ori! Don’t do this! Ori! Don’t do that!” he ‘squawked’. “Ori, put your hood up!”

Dori rolled his eyes and thwacked him upside the head “Oh, stop it! You’re making yourself look like an idiot.” Nori was, in fact, drawing some looks from the other patrons—namely, the elves who had spent the night. “I already said he could stay. End of discussion!”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Bofur sat off to the side with a mug of tea and watched Baylee as she cooked his breakfast. It had been an early morning for him once again, with the sun only _just_ peeking over the horizon when he had come downstairs. After last night, it was a wonder he was awake at all; he was sure he had at least four mugs of ale and one of beer.

Then again, it was a wonder anyone was awake at this time –except the elves. But they _were_ elves—they never really needed rest.

He took a sip of his tea, his head tilted as he watched Baylee disappear into the pantry for a few minutes. When she came out, she had an uncut leg of smoked ham and a large brick of bacon in her arms. The ham was so large, he was sure the pig it had come from had been big enough to ride into battle. It was a wonder a small thing like her could carry it _and_ the pork belly!

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want any help, lass?” he questioned as she set both down on the counter.

She gave him a reassuring smile as she brushed some hair from her face. “Aye, I’m sure. But if it’d make you feel better, the gravy could use stirring,” she chuckled. Reaching into the knife drawer, she pulled out a cleaver. “Did you enjoy the spur-o’-the-moment party last night, by the way?”

He grinned as he stood up and, after setting his tea down atop the stool, made his way over to the stove. “Aye, I did! Though, I must admit, I hadn’t been expectin’ one to take place.”

“Oh?” She stole a glance at him as she sliced some nice, thick strips of bacon from the pork belly. “Why’s that?” Her brow rose slightly as she heard clucking coming from the common room. ‘What the…? Who let a chicken into the inn?’ she thought.

“I always forget that the elves o’ Mirkwood know how to have a good time,” he admitted with a laugh. He plucked up the gravy spoon and started to stir the stuff around. “The elves o’ Rivendell, though? They’re boring. Nice enough, aye, but their music is more likely t’ put you to sleep than t’ make you want t’ get up and dance. And don’t even get me started on the food—There was almost _no_ meat! It was all vegetables an’ leaves an’ breads.”

Baylee giggled, her brow rising. “I take it ya stayed in Rivendell while travelin’ to Erebor?” she questioned. She then held up four slices of the bacon. “Is this enough or would you like a few more pieces?”

“Oh, aye, that’s enough,” he smiled. “Since there’s goin’ t’ be ham, too.” Truthfully, it would probably be more than enough, but he had the feeling that Nori or Bifur would manage to steal some of it. “And aye, we stayed in Rivendell for nearly two weeks. Thankfully, the provisions they gave us had a lot o’ dried and cured meats. Not sure why they hardly fed us any o’ it, though…lots o’ roasted vegetables an’ salads…” Seeing that she had looked back down to cut the ham, he swiped his finger along the back of the spoon, taking a small taste. ‘Hm. Think it needs pepper…’ he thought to himself.

“Well that’s good. A healthy dwarf needs more than just lettuce an’ bread to live off of,” she giggled.

He continued to stir the gravy, more out of wanting to feel somewhat useful than it actually needing stirred. “So, lass, is that three platter trick o’ yours one you do often or only for special occasions?”

Her brow rose and she laughed. “Usually only during the summers, when we’ve got more patrons. But, ah, admittedly, I mostly do it with _light_ loads—things like salads, breads, an’ desserts. Last night was actually the first time I’ve done it with that many drinks.”

As she walked over with the slices of ham and bacon, Bofur could see that her cheeks were a touch on the pink side. “So, what you’re sayin’ is that,” he began, “if I hadn’t cleared the path for you, there would have been a strong chance that you would’ve spilled the drinks everywhere?”

“Oh, most definitely. I’ve good balance, aye,” she giggled, laying the strips of bacon into a second frying pan, “but if I’m having t’ carry that much weight atop my head in a room full o’ half-drunken patrons, there’s no way I would have been able t’ stop that tray from falling if someone tripped me up.”

A cheeky, teasing grin came to his lips as he looked up at her. “Does that make me a bit o’ a hero, then?” he joked.

She laughed again and set the pan on the grate beside the pot of gravy. “I suppose that does,” she replied, smiling. Using a small shovel, she shifted the coals around so the second pan could have some heat as well. “Sir Bofur o’ the Full Tankard, Clearer o’ Floors.”

“Now that’s quite the catchy title! Might have t’ add that onto the shop sign when it comes time t’ have it made.” He then held up the spoon. “Do you think this needs a bit more pepper?”

Swiping her finger across the back of it, she tasted it. “Hm. It does, but it should get it when I add the sausage crumbles in. Speakin’ o’ which…” She moved across the room and grabbed a pair of bowls, one being set inside the other. “Has Will been much help for you an’ Bifur, by the way?” As she returned to the stove, Bofur saw that the inner bowl (which contained the sausage crumbles) had dozens of small holes pierced through its sides. When she lifted it up, he could see a layer of fat resting in the bottom of the second bowl.

“Well, yesterday was his last trial day,” he told her, taking the hole-filled bowl from her so he could add the sausage into the gravy. “But he doesn’t know that yet. After we’ve finished up today, Bifur an’ I are going to give him his first round o’ pay.” Glancing up at her, he watched as a broad smile came to her lips and his head tilted ever so slightly. She had quite a pretty smile…

“That’s wonderful t’ hear!” she chirped, taking the bowl back as he handed it to her. “I know he’s been havin’ a lot of fun workin’ for you two. It’s been quite a while since he’s gotten to do any sort of woodworking, whether it be carpentry or furniture makin’ or even fine detail work. An’ he’s also been enjoying getting to tear down some walls an’ roofs.” She chuckled, brushing some hair behind her right ear as she used a spatula to lightly push the bacon around.

As she moved her hair, Bofur could see silver wire curling around her ear, forming the shapes of leaves and flowers. Some of them, though, looked as if they had been bent out of and back into place many times, leaving the cuff a bit weak in places. He couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like the small leaves and flowers were hiding some sort of scar.

“He’s been a mighty big help—an’ not just because o’ his size, either,” he told her. “He’s a good worker an’ he makes for great conversation, too. It’s a shame people won’t hire him because o’ those scars.” He shook his head in an almost disappointed fashion. “We dwarves actually celebrate scars—they show that we’ve lived through battle or through grievous injury. Same with tattoos. Almost every dwarf I know has at least three tattoos celebrating some battle or milestone in their life.”

Baylee’s head tilted slightly. “Is that so?” He nodded. “That’s really interesting…most people I know think tattoos are worn only by vagabonds and thieves.”

“Strange how some things can have such different meanings between cultures, isn’t it?” he chuckled, lifting the spoon out of the gravy and swiping a clean finger across it. His brows rose as he tasted it, a grin appearing on his lips. “Oh, that’s _much_ better, lass!” He couldn’t wait to have it slathered all over his biscuits.

She laughed, lightly shaking her head. “I knew the sausage would do the trick. It’s a special kind that’s a wee bit extra peppery and garlicy.” Using the spatula, she flipped the bacon over, barely flinching as little droplets of fat splattered up onto the back of her hand. Then, setting the spatula aside, she grabbed a dishcloth and opened the latch of the oven.

“Well, it certainly makes the gravy a lot better,” he chuckled. “It was good before, but now, I can’t wait t’ have it with everything else.” As he tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot, he glanced over at her in time to see her opening the oven. Setting the spoon down, he returned to his stool, where his tea was waiting for him and still relatively warm.

Grabbing the peel, she started to remove loaves of bread and trays of biscuits from the oven. “That’s good t’ hear,” she laughed. “It’d be a shame if you’d have t’ have subpar gravy on your breakfast.” She glanced over her shoulder, smiling at him before turning back to the oven.

Bofur looked up as someone entered the kitchen; he was only mildly surprised when he saw that it was Will. “Mornin’, lad,” he smiled.

“Mornin’, Bofur, ‘Lee,” he said through a yawn. After yawning, he shuffled his way across the kitchen, grabbing a wooden cup on his way.

“Well, _there_ you are,” Baylee told him, her brow cocked as she pulled the last loaf of bread from the oven. “After the dancin’ got started up, you seemed to have disappeared for the rest of the night.”

Will’s brow rose as he dunked his cup into the bucket of clean water. “No I didn’t,” he answered—just a touch too quickly for both Bofur and Baylee to believe him. “I had had a bit too much t’ drink on an empty stomach, so I went to bed a wee bit early.”

Baylee looked at her brother knowingly; from where she stood, she could see a small, red mark on the side of his neck. For now, though, she’d spare him the humiliation of pointing it out. “Ah, well, I suppose that happens when you forgo dinner for dancin’ and drinkin’,” she told him, closing the oven. Putting the peel back, she went over to the stove and found the bacon perfectly cooked. She used the spatula to transfer it onto a plate before laying out the slices of ham in the pan.

“Dancing an’ drinking are a dangerous combination, whether you’ve got yourself a full stomach or not,” Bofur chuckled. Taking a long drink of his tea, he slid off the stool once more and went to refill the mug.

“That is very true,” Will chuckled before drinking his water. “So, has Baylee hired you on as her morning apprentice or are you wanting to avoid Nori the Chicken this morning?”

Snorting, Bofur shook his head. “So it _is_ him who’s makin’ all that racket out there…Probably because Dori’s motherin’ Ori again.” He shook his head, chuckling. “No to both o’ those, by the way. As a reward for helpin’ clear a path for her last night, Baylee here offered t’ make me a breakfast o’ whatever I wanted, whether it was on the menu for the day or not.” He stood on his tiptoes, grabbing the same tin of tea his first cup had been made with

“Ahh, yes—‘Lee knows that the best way t’ either reward or bribe people is through their stomachs,” Will laughed.

She pursed her lips in a small pout. “I’ll have you know I _rarely_ bribe people. An’ when I do, it’s either papa or Prim.” Walking over to the bowl of eggs, she let out a small sigh as she plucked up the bowl. “By the way, Will, could ya run down to the cellar an’ get me a fresh cask o’ butter? We’re nearly out up here.”

“Sure thing,” he said, setting his cup down. “Anything else you need from down there?” He started to walk to the pantry.

“Not that I can think of.” Carrying the eggs over to the stove grate, she set it down on the counter. As she flipped the ham slices, she heard the creak and thud of Will opening the cellar door. “How many eggs are you wantin’, Bofur?”

“Hmm…I think three should be enough,” he replied, pouring hot water into his cup. “I didn’t know the inn had a cellar.”

“Oh, we do—it’s only accessible through the pantry, though. There used t’ be two ways t’ get in, but the lower door got blocked off durin’ Smaug’s attack. Which, truthfully, is a bit o’ a good thing.” She went to grab some biscuits to add to his plate. “Means we don’t have t’ worry about anyone breaking in now.”

He nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. An’ since it’s dug into the hill, I’m sure it stays plenty cold down th—” His brows rose and he looked down at the floor as he heard a dull ‘thud’ come from the cellar. “…Was that your brother?”

A small sigh left Baylee’s mouth. “Aye. For some reason, he _always_ manages t’ bonk his head on at least one o’ the beams down there,” she explained. “It happens with da’, too. The people who dug the cellar were a good four inches shorter than them.”

“Which means you can pass right under them with ease.” There was a small, teasing grin on his lips when she looked over at him.

“Ha, ha.” Her voice was mixture of sarcasm and genuine amusement. Grabbing three of the biscuits, she quickly pulled them over onto the plate; they were still piping hot and burnt her fingers.

Quietly laughing, he raised his brow and glanced over at her. “How are your da’ and brother so tall, anyway? Especially given that Will’s your twin, I’d expect him t’ be a bit shorter.”

“Ah, I’m not too sure, t’ be honest.” She returned the plate to the stove, sliding the slices of ham onto it. “My mum wasn’t too short, either—she was about three inches taller than auntie.” Grabbing two eggs, she held one in each hand before giving them a quick rap on one of the bricks. She cracked them into the pan, watching as the clear albumen quickly turned white thanks to the hot pork fat. “We like t’ joke that I’m the under-baked twin,” she explained. “Will came nearly an hour after me, so he’s the one who’s fully baked.”

Bofur watched as she cracked the third egg into the pan before tossing the shells into a nearby bucket. “I think that’s a perfectly believable excuse,” he told her, holding his mug with both hands. “That, or ya simply didn’t have enough proofing time.”

She giggled and sprinkled a bit of salt and pepper over the eggs. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that excuse.” She slipped the spatula under the first two eggs, which were already at the flipping point. As careful as she was while flipping, however, yolk started to flood out from beneath the white. “Oh, bugger…I broke the yolks. If you’d like, I could make you some new ones?”

“Don’t worry, lass,” he told her, a reassuring smile on his lips. “I _always_ break at least one yolk when I’m makin’ my own eggs. It’s no trouble. An’ look—you’ve got one that flipped perfectly.” He grinned up at her.

She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm and she smiled. “That is true,” she smiled.

“Got the butter!” Will announced as he came out of the pantry. “Only earned one potential bruise this time, too!” There was a cheeky-yet-victorious grin on his lips as he set the cask down on the counter.

“We heard that, lad,” Bofur snorted. “Sounded like you hit pretty hard—are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded. “Aye, I’m fine. I actually didn’t hit too hard; it just sounded loud.”

“What he means t’ say is that his skull is so thick, he hardly felt it,” Baylee joked, plating the eggs along the meat and biscuits. “How much gravy would ya like, Bofur?”

“Oh, give me two big spoonfuls right over the biscuits,” he told her. “If I need more, I know where t’ find it.”

Will laughed, his brow rising. “With how often I find you in here, I daresay you’re going t’ know this kitchen as well as Baylee an’ the other lasses.”

“Well, lad, I’ve never met a kitchen I didn’t like,” he stated, amusement in his voice. He watched as Baylee dolloped the gravy onto the plate.

Before she handed it to him, she added a spoon and knife to his plate. “Here you go, lad: One specially-made breakfast for Sir Bofur,” she smiled. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could see a bit of color come to his cheeks as he took the plate.

“Thank you again, Miss Baylee,” he chirped. “I can already tell it’s going t’ be mighty delicious!” With a broad grin on his lips, he turned and left the kitchen.

Will looked down at his sister, his brow somewhat raised. “ _Sir_ Bofur?” he repeated.

“We were jokin’ around about last night,” she explained, moving to start slicing her brother and herself some bacon. “He was a bit o’ a hero, clearing that path for me, so I dubbed him ‘Sir Bofur, Clearer of Floors’.” She chuckled quietly. “How much bacon do you want?”

“Eh, give me five slices if you’re cutting them thin. Three if you’re doin’ thick.” He watched her as he carefully refilled the kettle. “You seem to be getting along quite well with the dwarves.”

“As do you,” she smiled. “Bofur was tellin’ me how much of a help you’ve been this week.” She carefully sliced three, thick strips of bacon from the pork belly before making three, thinner slices.

He rubbed the side of his neck, chuckling. “It’s been fun, doin’ work like that again. Aye, I’ve woken up sore every morning this week, but I’d be lyin’ if I said it wasn’t worth it.”

She smiled; she was happy to hear him say that—especially since she knew the surprise he’d be getting at the end of that work day. “I’m glad you’re getting t’ do work you actually enjoy again,” she commented, slicing some ham as well.

“Don’t get me wrong; I like traveling with the trading caravans, but…It’s not working with my hands. Even if my hands don’t always let me do fine detailin’.” He looked down at his left palm and sighed, watching as his hand trembled a bit. The shaking was a result of damage his nerves had suffered; it wasn’t too much of a hinderance to his life, but he did find it difficult at times to do subtle detail work or to hold his chisels in certain ways. “I trained for years t’ be a woodworker for a reason. Just because I’ve got some scars now doesn’t mean I’m any less capable of doing that work.”

“Then it’s good that dwarves don’t mind scars,” she chuckled. Bringing the meat over to the cooking grate, she laid the bacon down in the pan first. “An’ it’s a good thing your lady friend doesn’t mind them, either.”

Having been in the middle of grabbing himself some biscuits, Will froze. “Wh-what do you mean, my ‘lady friend’?” he stammered, his cheeks turning a bit red.

Her brow rose and she glanced across the room at him. “What I mean is you’re goin’ to want to hide those marks on your neck before papa sees them,” she smirked, watching as he clapped a hand over the side of his neck. “Who is she, by the way?”

Will swallowed hard and his cheeks grew darker. “N-No one. Just pretend you didn’t see anything.” He reached back and undid the strip of leather holding his hair back as he walked over to his sister. Shaking his head, he let his hair haphazardly fall into his face and over his shoulders. “There. Does this work?”

“Aye, it does. Though ya look ridiculous now,” she lightly teased. “You know you can tell me, aye? I’m not about t’ tell anyone.”

He was quiet for a moment, ladling some gravy over his biscuits. “I will tell you,” he began, “but not just yet. Not because I don’t trust you, but…” He bit his lower lip. “I’m just not quite ready yet, you know?”

“That’s understandable,” she smiled, flipping the thinner pieces of bacon over. “If things go the way you like, though, as your big sister, I have a right t’ know who she is first.”

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’d forgive me if I _didn’t_ tell you first.”

* * *

“Obviously, for now, we should avoid demolishing the doorway, since there’s going t’ be a support post there. We should also avoid this area,” Will used a piece of chalk to make a long, vertical line on the wall, “as well as here, here, an’ here.” He marked out more support beams. “Accidentally knockin’ one out won’t be too big o’ a deal, but let’s try to avoid taking out any more than that.”

Bofur, his hands resting atop the butt of his mattock, nodded in understanding. “Until we get the new posts in, at least, right?”

“Aye, until that happens.” He smiled at the two dwarves. “Did you decide where you wanted to put the window, by the way?”

At that, Bifur nodded. “Aye, we did,” he said. “It’s…bigger than either o’ us expected, but this is going t’ be a shop, after all, an’ shops need nice, big windows.” As Will offered him the piece of chalk, he went over to the exterior wall and started to draw a line. It started about a foot from the door and ended about a foot from the corner. “This line would be about where we want the bottom o’ the window to be.”

Will nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, you weren’t wrong—that is big. But it’ll be easy enough t’ get a frame fitted into something like that,” he told them. “Were you wantin’ t’ take that bit of wall out today as well?”

“No, no…we’re going to leave that for a bit,” Bofur chuckled. “We’re still figurin’ out the best place to get glass…let alone how we want the window to look.”

“I think we should have smaller panels held in place by wrought iron or lead, like the upper floor windows at the Tankard,” Bifur stated. “It’d be more cost effective an’ a nice bit o’ decoration.”

“While I think we should have larger panels or even one large sheet,” Bofur chuckled. “It’d be easier for the lil’ ones t’ look through an’ see all the toys.”

“Why not both?” Will suggested, his head tilting slightly. “Have it be three panels, but on either end, you’ve got the wrought iron bits an’ in the middle, a nice, big single panel.”

The cousins looked at one another, their brows raised and contemplative looks on their faces. “We’d save money with just the one large panel and the other, smaller ones,” Bifur told Bofur.

“An’ we’d still have the decorative bits thanks to the smaller panels,” Bofur replied.

Grins came to their faces as they looked back at Will. “Lad, you’re just provin’ yourself more and more useful each day,” Bifur told him.

“It’s a good thing we decided t’ hire you,” Bofur said in a businesslike tone and with a small nod.

Will’s eyes widened as he gawked at the two dwarves. “Wh-what?” His eyes widened further as Bifur tossed a pouch to him; as he caught it, he could feel that it was heavy with coin.

“We’re hirin’ you on, lad,” Bifur told him with a grin. “This entire week, you’ve proven t’ be more than capable an’ a dedicated worker. Not t’ mention, it’s been quite fun conversing with you.” He put his hands on his hips. “That pouch there contains your week’s earnings. You’ll get a similar one every week from now until this project o’ ours is finished. Does that sound good t’ you?”

“Th-that sounds great!” Will answered, a broad grin on his lips. “Amazing, even!” He would have said more, but two figures stepped in through the door, catching his attention.

“Lunch delivery!” Baylee chirped, holding up a basket. Beside her was Ori, who was carrying a larger and heavier looking basket. “Hope we’re not interruptin’ anything or, if we are, it’s not terribly important.”

Bofur perked at the mention of lunch; they hadn’t had a particularly laborious day just yet, but he had still worked up an appetite walking around. “Just gave your brother the news that we’re hirin’ him,” he explained.

“So _that’s_ why he looks so shocked,” she laughed. “I made sure t’ pack a few extra honey cakes an’ a few bottles o’ the _good_ cider t’ celebrate.”

Will looked at her, his brows furrowed. “You…you knew they were going to hire me?”

“Bofur _might’ve_ told me this mornin’,” she chuckled. She looked around, a smile remaining her lips. “This looks _much_ different from what I remember.”

Ori nodded in agreement. “It’s coming along quite nicely! It’s a lot more spacious lookin’ now that you’ve got all the old stuff tossed out.” He looked down at the floor, which was covered in mosaic flowers. “An’ this floor is quite pretty, too!”

“An’ to think we were going to rip it up before we gave it a good mop!” Bifur chuckled, walking over and taking the basket from Baylee. “So, what brings the two o’ you here with lunch?” he questioned, peeking inside. Finding one of the honey cakes Baylee mentioned, he grinned and pulled it out before taking a bite.

“Well, for one, I thought it’d be good t’ get you lads a good midday meal in just in case you end up workin’ late again,” Baylee answered. As Bofur motioned for everyone to follow him into the kitchen, she trailed after him.

Looking down at his sister, Will cocked his brow. “An’ the other reason…?”

“The elves are walking around half naked,” Ori answered, his nose scrunched up slightly. He saw both Bifur and Bofur copy him, their noses scrunching up in distaste as well. “At least, the male elves are. Tauriel an’ the other lady elves are keeping themselves relatively covered.”

“Ahh, so da’ sent you an’ Wenna both out of the inn for the afternoon, huh?” Will laughed, his brow cocked.

“I don’t know why he sent me out—I’m not the one who stops an’ stares at them as if I’ve never seen a shirtless male before.” She shook her head and sighed. “Oh well. I’m not goin’ to complain, since it means I have a whole afternoon t’ go bother Prim.” As they entered the kitchen, she looked around. It was quite a nice kitchen, complete with its own oven—a rare thing to find in a townhouse. ‘The family who once lived here must have been part of the nobility,’ she thought.

Bifur shook his head. “Never could figure out why folk find elves so attractive. No offense t’ our Kili o’ course, but…they’re just not _usually_ the sort o’ beings we dwarves find attractive.” He started to unpack the basket’s contents, laying them out on the table.

“They’re kind of nice to draw, though,” Ori admitted, his voice a bit quiet. Like Bifur, he began to empty out his basket, setting four bottles of cider on the table. “But only because they’re so different from drawing other dwarrows,” he quickly added.

“Well, drawing the same thing over an’ over again can get boring,” Bofur chuckled. “Isn’t that one o’ the reasons why you’re still here in Dale? So you could draw things _not_ made by dwarves?”

Ori’s cheeks turned a bit pink, but he nodded. “It is. Not to mention, there’s a lot more color here than back in Erebor.”

Baylee nodded. “Aye, that’s very true. While the green marble is very lovely, it can be a bit overwhelmin’, I’m sure.”

“You’ve been to Erebor, lass?” Bifur questioned, his brow rising slightly. By now, he was pulling a couple loaves of bread and a small pile of honey cakes from the basket.

“Once, when da’ and I went t’ get Will some new carving tools,” she explained. “It was the first time I was taller than the majority o’ the adults around me.” She grinned as her words earned snorts and laughs from the others.

Will shook his head as he still chuckled. “An’ yet, da’ still managed to make you look like a child, I bet.” He took a seat on a stool, reaching for one of the cider bottles.

She pouted. “He makes almost _everyone_ look like a child when they stand next to him. As do you, for that matter!” She moved to tuck some hair behind her ear only to wince; her hair had gotten tangled up in her ear cuff and was tugging on it.

“Here, let me help.” Will stood up and went over to her, taking care as he started the tedious task of untangling. A look of concentration was on his face as he worked to free the cuff from the strands of hair, but after a moment, he frowned. “Ah…I think it’s time you get a new cuff, ‘Lee.”

Her brow rose. “Why’s that?” She frowned as Will held his hand out to her, showing her a portion of the metal vine that had broken off. “…Bollocks,” she murmured.

“Is it a sentimental piece?” Bifur asked, his head tilted slightly. “If so, we know a few jewelers that may be able to fix it.” He moved to sit down at the table; the table itself looked ancient, but the chairs were much newer.

Baylee gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank ya for the offer,” she told him, reaching up to remove the rest of the cuff, “but it really doesn’t hold any meaning t’ me. It just hides a nasty bit of scarring.”

“Nasty bit of scarring?” Ori repeated, his brows furrowed as he, too, sat down. “How so?” Part of him felt guilty for asking; Baylee’s cheeks had turned a bit red and Will looked at his sister with some concern.

“Aye—not nearly as bad as Will’s, but…” She pulled her hair off to one side and turned her head, showing the three dwarves that a good portion of her ear was missing. What was left was mostly jagged cartilage. “An orc managed to get a small bite out o’ me before he got he got his throat sliced,” she explained, letting her hair fall back into place.

Ori glanced over at Bifur and Bofur, finding looks of shock on their faces. He didn’t find himself _as_ surprised as them, since he already knew she had fought orcs at one point. Seeing that most of her ear was missing was still quite a surprise, however, especially when he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Well, that _is_ a rather nasty bit o’ scarring indeed,” Bofur said, “but, luckily, it’s not too noticeable. Someone has t’ stare at the side o’ your head for quite a while before they even notice it—an’ if someone’s staring at you that long, well, then, they’re being a bit creepy if you ask me.”

Baylee laughed, her brow rising. “Aye, I suppose you’re right,” she smiled, his words bringing some ease to her; she was glad he hadn’t asked how she had come to have an orc bite her ear off. “Also luckily, I’m a bit too short for most people t’ pay attention to my ears.” She lightly shook her head, still smiling. “I hope you lads enjoy your lunch,” she then said. “I’ll see you four at dinner tonight—Oh, but before I go! Tomorrow’s laundry day. If you’ve any clothes or would like your bedding washed, there will be a sheet o’ paper for you t’ sign on the bar tonight. In the mornin’, leave what clothes you want washed in a pile on the floor along with five silver per room occupant.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Bifur replied with a small nod.

“Aye. We’ll probably sign up tonight, then,” Bofur agreed. He and Bifur had been trying to ration out the spare clothes they had brought with them; all the manual labor they had been doing left them quite dirty. “Thanks for the heads up, lass!”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. Turning away from the group, she headed back to the front of the store-to-be and then outside.

‘Feels weird not having my cuff,’ she thought, self-consciously touching her ear as she walked. ‘I know it’s not _that_ noticeable, but after keeping it covered since the war…’ Sighing, she clasped her hands behind her back and did her best to not think about it. ‘Time to go find Prim…I’m sure she’ll enjoy hearing about the visiting elves. That is, if Rosamunde, Rosemary, and Rosalyn haven’t told her all about them yet.’

She started to make her way across town, to where the wealthier families lived. However, as she crossed the market, she found she wouldn’t have to go that far to find Primrose.

“Baylee! Over here, lass!”

Looking towards the fountain, she saw Primrose standing beside Bard, the king of Dale and good friend to them both. She waved at the two of them before making her way over. “Just the lass I was looking for,” she chuckled. She then moved to hug Bard. “An’ long time no see, Mister King-o’-Dale!”

“Strange t’ see you out and about at this time of day,” Bard said, a small smile on his lips as he returned the hug. “With it being midday, I would have expected you t’ be up to your neck in customers at the Tankard.”

“Ah, no…Papa sent me an’ Wenna out for the rest o’ the day because the elves are bathin’,” she chuckled. Seeing Bard’s smile, she felt her stomach flutter slightly; he had always had a handsome smile… _when_ he smiled, that is.

Primrose giggled, her brow rising. “The triplets told me about them,” she commented. “Apparently they’re a _very_ handsome bunch, those elves.”

Baylee rolled her eyes, though she smiled. “Aye, I suppose they are. But don’t you go runnin’ to the inn to steal any peeks.”

“Any idea why they’re here?” Bard asked her, his brow raised slightly. “It’s not often we get groups of them anymore…”

“They’re here t’ celebrate Lady Tauriel’s upcomin’ wedding to Prince Kili,” Baylee explained with a small nod. “Apparently, elves celebrate a few months before the wedding instead of a few days. At least, that’s what Bofur told me.”

At that, Bard’s brows furrowed, his smile leaving. “Bofur…?” he repeated. “As in a dwarf with a funny hat?”

“Aye, that same one. He an’ two other members o’ Thorin’s Company have been staying with us for a couple o’ weeks.”

Primrose’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me those dwarves were part of Thorin’s Company!” she gasped.

She shrugged; she knew Primrose and her family held no animosity towards the dwarves for what had transpired eight years ago. “I only found out last night that they were.”

“Who else is with Bofur?” Bard asked, his brow still lifted.

“His cousin, Bifur, an’ their friend, Ori,” she explained. “If you’re worried that they’re causin’ trouble, then you can stop. They’ve been wonderful guests.” She knew that Bard had had unpleasant experiences with Thorin’s Company when they passed through Laketown and prior to the Battle of Five Armies, being that he had to sneak them into Laketown. “Bofur an’ Bifur bought one of the buildings on the eastern main street and are renovating it with the intent to turn it into a toy shop.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, absorbing the information she gave him. “I wouldn’t have figured either of them to be toymakers,” he murmured. He then shook the thought from his head. “Actually, speakin’ of the inn, I was about to head over to there. I wanted t’ ask your father a few things.”

“Oh? What sorts o’ things?”

“In a few weeks, Prince Fili from Erebor will be coming here so we can discuss sending a caravan to Laketown,” he explained. “Normally, we wouldn’t need t’ discuss such things, but with the raiders that have been attacking lately—”

“Raiders?!” Primrose squeaked, her eyes wide. As Bard gestured for her to speak quieter, she added in a harsh whisper, “I haven’t heard anything about _raiders_!”

“That’s because we haven’t wanted to scare anyone,” he told her, his voice quiet. “Only a few folk know about them—they haven’t really attacked any of the caravans coming this far north, so we haven’t had to worry. But they’ve been gettin’ bolder.” He glanced at Baylee. “Has Will told you anything about them?”

She shook her head, a frown on her face. “This is the first time I’m hearin’ anything about them. Are the raiders comin’ from the east or from the Brown Lands?”

“We don’t know. We don’t even get consistent reports on whether they’re human or orc.” He sighed, glancing out over the city and towards the southern fields. “The only thing all the reports share is that they ride wargs.”

Primrose visibly shuddered and Baylee cursed. “They have t’ be orcs then,” the former stated. “No human has the gall t’ ride a _warg_ o’ all creatures.”

“I don’t know…If they’re raiders, then they’ve got t’ have quite the confidence in themselves,” Baylee countered. “Not t’ mention, if they _are_ coming from the Brown Lands, that’s prime breedin’ grounds for wargs.”

“How do you know?” she asked, brows furrowed.

Baylee shrugged. “Mum an’ auntie told me. They would tell me an’ Will tales about how they had t’ help defend their village from roaming warg packs. When the attacks got too great in number, King Thengel sent an army o’ seven or eight Éoreds to the Brown Lands t’ thin the numbers down.”

Both Bard and Primrose nodded in understanding, though only Bard seemed to understand just what an Éored was or how many men made up seven or eight of them. “That’s good information t’ know,” he told her. “Thank you. I’ll be sure t’ bring that up when we have the meeting. Oh—yes, speaking of that. I was goin’ to ask your da’ if we could hold the meeting at the Tankard. Preferably in the private room, but it all depends on the size of Prince Fili’s entourage, I suppose.”

“I’m sure da’ will be quite fine with that,” Baylee replied. “Galiene might be left in a bit o’ a tizzy—you know how she likes t’ cook her most impressive dishes when important people come t’ stay an’ dine.”

“Mmm…and if she’s feeling extra special, she makes those delicious apple fritters o’ hers,” Primrose grinned. She looked at Baylee. “Do you think she’d make them for this sort o’ event?”

“You know, if you asked her t’ make some, she would,” Bard told her with a small laugh. “All it takes it a wee little ‘please, Miss Galiene’ and she’ll have them whipped up in no time. At least, that’s what always worked for me.”

Baylee laughed as well. “Aye, she loves making those fritters. Maybe I should ask her t’ make some tonight or tomorrow?” A thoughtful look came to her features as she thought the prospect over. “She may have t’ make a quadruple batch, though…If the lads get a taste o’ one of the fritters, they’re going t’ want at least half a dozen each.”

“The lads?” Primrose repeated, brows furrowed slightly.

“That’s what I call the dwarves,” she answered, cheeks turning a bit pink.

Bard chuckled. “I take it you’ve become fast friends with them, then? For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me too much.” He then shook his head again. “I should probably get over t’ the Tankard…If I don’t go now, your da’ will talk my ear off until supper an’ I’ve promised Sigrid that I’d help her fix her dollhouse this afternoon.”

“Good luck with escapin’ then,” Baylee grinned. “He’s in the forge, by the way; or, at least, he was when I left.” She tucked some hair behind her unscarred ear. “An’ you need t’ stop by more often—especially if you’ve got Sigrid an’ Bain in tow. I’m sure they’re missin’ their adopted grandpa something fierce.”

“Believe me: There’s nothin’ more that I want than t’ visit you lot more often,” he assured her. “Sadly, being a king has its drawbacks an’ those drawbacks involve a lot o’ paperwork an’ boring meetings.” He shook his head, chuckling. “I’ll see the two o’ you later. Tell your family I say hello for me, Prim.”

“Will do. See you, Bard.”

“Bye, Bard.” Baylee moved to sit beside Primrose on the fountain, watching the king for a moment longer before turning to her friend. “Is it just me or does he look a bit more tired than he used to?”

Primrose shrugged. “He could have had a bad night’s sleep,” she told her. “Or it could be the stresses o’ being a king wearing on him. He had to learn how t’ be one quite quickly, after all.”

“That is true.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “I just realized he only told me one o’ the things he was going to talk about with papa.”

“Don’t worry—that’s about all I found out, too. My guess is it’s super secret king stuff that he wants your father’s opinion on.” She chuckled, reaching into her basket and pulling out a hand pie before offering it to her friend. “I don’t see why he doesn’t just give in an’ become Bard’s advisor.”

Taking the pie, Baylee broke it in half. “Thank you. An’ I suppose it’s because he doesn’t want t’ give up the Tankard to me or auntie just yet. He can’t be a king’s advisor _and_ an inn keeper, after all.” She took a bite of the pastry, her eyes closing in bliss. “Yavanna’s grace, this has lemon curd in it…”

Giggling, Primrose watched her with a lifted brow. “It had been given to me with the specifications of making sure it got into your hands,” she explained. “It’s from Adela. She made one for Will, too, though I don’t know its flavor.”

At that, Baylee’s brow rose. “Adela…as in your cousin, Adela Stover?”

“Aye, the very one,” she replied. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ that she put something strange in them. Unlike my uncle, she has absolutely no quarrel with your family.”

Biting her lower lip, Baylee looked down at the pie with a mixture of caution and intrigue. “But why would she make Will an’ me pies?” Her eyes then widened slightly. ‘Wait—if she sent me and Will a pie out of nowhere like that,’ she thought, ‘then…then maybe she’s the one Will ran off with last night? It’d make sense, since he didn’t want to tell me who he snogged; being the daughter of papa’s rival…’

“Baylee? Is everything alright?” Primrose looked at her friend with concern.

“Aye, perfectly fine,” she chirped before taking another bite of pie. “If you see Adela again, give her my compliments, please. This is a _damned_ good lemon pie.”

“Baylee, watch your tongue! It’s unladylike to for a woman of your standing to use that sort of language!” her friend scolded, her lips pursed in a pout. “Why, imagine if Bard had been here to hear that. He’d be disappointed in you.”

A broad grin came to Baylee’s freckled face. “ _Bard’s_ the one who taught me how t’ curse properly.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Bifur? Biiifuuur…C’mon, Bifur, time t’ get up, lad!”

Grumbling, Bifur rolled over in the bed and pulled the blankets up and over his head. He did his best to ignore his cousin as he crawled onto the bed and began to shake him, but Bofur was persistent. It was one of his more annoying traits at times.

“Alright, alright!” He shoved Bofur away, hearing a small thud as he toppled to the floor. Normally, he would have asked him if he was alright, but by the time he sat up to do such, Bofur was already back on his feet, wearing a big grin. “What’s got you grinnin’ so big?” he questioned before yawning.

“Nothin’. It’s just a good mornin’,” Bofur replied. “Though, I do have a wee lil’ favor t’ ask of you.”

Bifur gave him a bland look. “I knew there was _some_ reason why you were wakin’ me up so enthusiastically,” he said before yawning a second time. “What is it?”

“Could you go t’ Erebor today t’ pick us up a few more supplies?” He moved to sit on his own bed, which was across the room from Bifur’s. “An’ maybe let Bombur an’ Gerdi know what’s been goin’ on?”

“What kind o’ supplies? Building supplies, clothin’ supplies…?” Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he reached over to the little nightstand and grabbed his comb.

“Both, actually. We’re nearly out o’ nails an’ we’re going to need some good saws…maybe start lookin’ around for good glass or windowmakers…” He rubbed the side of his neck as he watched Bifur comb through his black-and-white beard. “You know I’m not very good when it comes t’ bartering for those sorts of things. Only things I’m good at bartering for are metals, weapons, an’ jewels.” He chuckled.

Bifur’s brow rose. “Not true. You’re also good with bargaining when it comes t’ food an’ furs.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “The furs are only because o’ you. You taught me how t’ tell the difference between a well-tanned hide and a poor one.” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “So…you’ll go, then?”

“Aye, I’ll go. I’ve been wantin’ to see our badgers anyway. Not t’ mention, find out if Gerdi’s finally given birth. The poor thing looked ready to burst when we left and that was two weeks ago.” His brows furrowed slightly as he started to untangle a particularly nasty knot near the center of his beard. “Though, I’m a bit curious as t’ why you’re not wanting to come with.”

Bofur shrugged. “I thought I’d ask Ori about commissionin’ a sign design from him today,” he explained, “and help Will patch up the wall a bit.” As he spoke, he grabbed the bag that contained his clothes and started to sort through it. “You know, small jobs. We’ve done so much big work the last couple o’ weeks, we could all use an easy day.” He threw some shirts onto the floor along with two pairs of pants.

“What’re you doing that for?” His brow rose; he had forgotten about it being laundry day.

“…So the lasses can wash our clothes?” Bofur replied, his brows furrowing slightly. “Did ya forget what Miss Baylee said yesterday?”

Feeling his cheeks go a bit pink with embarrassment, he nodded. “Aye, I suppose I did…How many silvers did they say again? Four per occupant?”

“Five. Ori’s already left his clothes an’ coin, by the way, so you don’t have t’ worry about him.” He tossed some socks onto his pile before topping it off with both his vests. Seeing the size of the pile, he rubbed the back of his neck; he looked across the room and saw that Ori’s pile was much smaller. It was just two tunics, two pairs of trousers, and a few socks. “I’m wonderin’ if maybe we should leave a bit extra…you an’ me are going t’ have quite a bit o’ clothing for them to wash.”

Bifur nodded in agreement. “That’d be a good idea, actually. The question is how to leave out the extra coin and them actually take it. We both know by now that they’re not the types who’d accept that sort o’ thing.”

At that, Bofur grinned. “Oh, that’s easy enough. We leave ‘em a gold piece or two an’ write a little note tellin’ them to keep the change.”

“Well, let’s hope they actually keep the change, then!”

* * *

Nearly two hours later found Bifur riding his pony through the streets of Erebor. With the day still being quite young, the streets were almost empty; only merchants, children, and nightshift miners were wandering about. Whenever he saw someone he recognized, he’d give a polite nod and wave to them.

Soon enough, he found himself riding along a smooth, almost black street. The marble had been inlaid with golden geometric figures that crisscrossed over one another in intricate patterns. It was familiar to him; he had walked and ridden this path almost every day for eight years.

The designs led him around a corner, where they morphed into a different pattern. Both he and the pattern continued going straight for a little while longer before making a left down a side street. There was no pattern here, but he didn’t mind: The large, wooden door at the end of the road was decorated more than enough to make up for the plain street.

A warm smile came to his lips as he looked at the large wooden door. It had been stained with a dark finish, but gold and silver wire ran across its surface, mimicking the figures on the street. It was set into a flat, black wall—to anyone who was not a dwarf, it seemed pointless to have such an elegant door in a plain, unimpressive wall.

But to Bifur, this was home. A _real_ home where he could see his family and prop his feet up on a cushion and eat good, home-cooked food. A home that had been hard won.

It far different from the cramped little burrow he once shared with Bofur and Bombur.

Opening the door, he stepped inside. Straight away, he was able to smell Gerdi and Bombur’s cooking; they _always_ had something cooking. In the distance, he could hear the shouts and yells of their four youngest children as they wrestled while their elder brothers tried to get them to calm down slightly.

Cupping his mouth with his hands, he bellowed out, “I’m home!”

For a minute, everything went silent. Then, he heard delighted squeals and the sound of eight small feel running; four children came bounding around the corner. He braced himself, a wide grin on his lips as he opened his arms.

“There’re my wee badgers!” he laughed, catching the children as they lunged for him. He spoke in Khuzdul, knowing that the youngest children were still learning Westron and would understand him better. “What’s this? You _didn’t_ manage to knock me down? That’s—what, two?—for me and eight for you!”

“We’ll get you next time, Cousin Bifur!” the eldest of the group, a lad by the name of Boroz, promised.

The youngest, a little girl by the name of Sanna, wriggled her way out of Bifur’s arms, choosing to instead climb up onto his shoulders. “Where Uncle Bof?” she questioned, her head tilted.

“I’m afraid he’s still in Dale, my littlest badger,” he told her. He gave the other girl, Grid, a small boost so she could sit on his other shoulder. The two boys (the younger being named Buruz), he tucked under his arms like sacks of potatoes. “Is your daddy home?” he asked, starting to walk down the hall.

“He’s away at the market right now,” an older, female voice replied. Looking up, Bifur saw his cousin-in-law, Gerdi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She was one of the loveliest dwarrow dames in Erebor, with extremely long, deep red hair and a thick, finely braided beard to match. There was a smile on her face Bifur walked towards her. “So, why is that silly, old coot still in Dale?” she asked, her hands resting over her very pregnant belly.

As he reached the woman, Bifur set the children down and shooed them off. The boys and Grid did such, but Sanna remained, clinging onto his leg. “We found a shop,” he told Gerdi before moving off to the side so he could give her a hug.

Her eyes widened at his words. “Are you serious? The two of you _actually_ found a shop?” she gaped. “How?! It’s been eight years—surely all the good places in Dale have been taken?”

He shook his head. “While the city has had a _lot_ of repair work done to it and there is a rather decent population living there again, at least a quarter of the city remains uninhabited and unrenovated.” Scooping up Sanna once more, he followed Gerdi into the kitchen. “The shop we found, though, is in a pretty good location—right on the main street. But we’re having to do a _lot_ of work to get it to livable condition again, let alone good enough to run a shop out of it.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “You two took _that_ much gold with you?” she questioned. “I thought you were just location scouting?”

“You know Bofur…He didn’t want to leave it to chance if we did find a good one.” Sitting down at the table, he sat Sanna on his knee.

“I _knew_ I should have checked Bofur’s pockets before the two of you left. Leave it to him to outright _buy_ a buildin’…” She shook her head and made a disappointed clicking noise with her tongue, though Bifur knew it was mostly in jest.

He chuckled. “To be fair, I’m also to blame. I was the one who agreed the building had potential.” Seeing that her hair was hanging loose, he started to separate Sanna’s hair out into different sections so he could braid it. Not only would this keep her hair out of her face, but it also got her to sit still; all dwarves knew to sit still when their hair was being braided.

“Since the building’s not livable yet, where are the two of you staying in the meantime?” Gerdi grabbed a large, wooden bowl and started to ladle the contents of a huge stock pot into it.

“At a lovely inn called the Full Tankard,” he answered, his fingers making quick work of braiding the child’s hair. “It’s run by an extremely nice family—The Braddocks. The innkeeper and head of the family used to be an apprentice smith under a dwarrow and his children had a half dwarrow for a nanny growing up, so it’s been nice getting to converse with people who understand our ways a bit.”

As she set the bowl in front of him, Bifur could see that Gerdi’s eyes had lit up. “Is that so? I bet that’s been a relief!” She slowly eased herself down into a chair. “I know Menfolk can sometimes find us dwarrows a bit peculiar in our ways.”

“Thank you,” he told her before leaning over and peering into the bowl. A wide grin came to his lips when he saw that it contained her famous vegetable soup. Despite not having a speck of meat in it, the volume of mushrooms she used still managed to give it a meaty flavor. “Aye, it’s been nice…We actually ended up hiring the innkeeper’s son, Will, to help us with the shop. He’s a woodworker—and a skilled one at that!” Finishing up Sanna’s hair, he admired his handiwork. “There you go, my littlest badger. Now run along and play so I can eat, aye?”

“No play. Stay with Bif,” she pouted. “Missed Bif.”

He gave her a hug. “I’ll be here for a few hours at _least_ , so don’t you worry go worrying your curly lil’ head off, Sanna. Go ahead and go play. I promise I’ll join in later.”

She was quiet for a moment, her lips still pursed in a pout and a thoughtful look on her young face. Finally deciding his answer was good enough, she slid off his lap and scampered off.

Gerdi smiled, lightly shaking her head once more. “She’s been really missing her Uncle Bof and Cousin Bif,” she told him. “They all have…This is the longest the two of you have been gone in eight years, after all.”

He gave her an apologetic smile as he scooted his chair in closer to the table. “I hate to say it, but once we get the shop up and running, we might be gone for even longer stretches.” Lifting his spoon, he blew a few times, trying to cool the soup down to a bearable temperature before popping it into his mouth.

“You could always have one of the others help out, you know. So you don’t have to be gone for so long.”

“We were actually thinking of hiring Will on as a toymaker once everything’s finish,” he admitted. “We’d have to test his toy making skills, of course, but if he’s there, then only one of us would need to be at the shop with him.” He ate a few more spoonfuls of soup, his eyes closing in bliss. Galiene made good soup, yes, but nothing could be better than Gerdi and Bombur’s cooking.

“My, my…seems the two of you have become fast friends with this Will,” she chuckled.

“Aye, he’s a good lad. But like I said, the whole family’s a good bunch.”

“Who’s a good bunch?” The two looked up to see a young dwarf enter the kitchen, his beard only just beginning to fill in around his chin. “And I see the wee ones weren’t lying about Cousin Bifur being back!” As he spoke, two more dwarves entered the room; these two were older than him, with their beards having fully filled in along their jaws. In fact, the oldest of the three nearly had half a foot of fiery red hair on his chin! They were Bombur and Gerdi’s three eldest: Baraz, Berez, and Biriz.

“I was wondering if I’d get to see the three of you while I was here,” Bifur grinned. He watched as they moved to take a seat around the table as well. “How’ve your lessons with Balin been going?”

“Boring,” the three of them answered in unison, much to their mother’s chagrin.

“Don’t get us wrong—he’s a good teacher,” said Baraz, “but some of the things he’s been teaching us are just downright boring.”

Berez and Biriz nodded in agreement. “I don’t see why we need to learn about the historical treaties struck up by the different clans over the centuries,” said the latter. “I can understand learning about the other clans, but all those treaties were in the past and long gone.”

At that, Bifur wiggled his finger in a semi-scolding manner. “Just because _you_ think this information isn’t needed, doesn’t mean it isn’t. Some of those treaties you’re learning about still stand today.” He could understand the lads’ frustration with their lessons, but knew that what they were learning was nevertheless important—even if he hadn’t learned any of it when he was their age. “It may come in use one day, so you never know.”

Berez blew a raspberry at him. “I know I won’t need it. I’m going to follow in dad’s footsteps and become a cook,” he grinned.

“Well, if you’re going to be a cook, you’re going to want to know how to source your ingredients, young dwarrow,” Gerdi told him as she shook a scolding spoon at him, “and sourcing those ingredients means paying attention to which clans and races we have the strongest treaties with.” She looked up, past her cousin-in-law and sons, a smile coming to her lips. “There you are, love! I was hoping you’d get back soon.”

Turning in his chair, Bifur could see what looked like an enormous wooden crate of food with legs walking in. “Sorry for taking so long, my ruby, but Dori was trying to talk my ear off again,” he said, setting the crate down on the counter. His eyes then lit up as he spotted Bifur. “Cousin! You’re back!”

“Only for a few hours.” Standing up, he gave Bombur a sideways hug thanks to the younger’s girth. “I’m just here to get some supplies and start the process of getting estimates for windows.”

Bombur nodded in understanding, beginning to unpack the crate as Bifur sat back down. “Dori was mentioning that you two had found a shop. Apparently, it’s in a right state of disrepair.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s _that_ bad—it’s got good bones and plenty of space. But aye, it does need quite a bit of work done to it.” He ducked as Bombur called out Baraz’s name; a bundle of garlic went flying over his head.

Baraz caught the garlic and went to go hang it on a hook in the corner of the kitchen. “Dori’s always been a bit of a nitpick when it comes to how places look, too,” he commented. “If there’s a wee bit of dust he can see, he thinks the place is filthy.” The others quietly laughed at his words, knowing them to be true.

“Well, regardless, I’m sure the two of you will have the place fit to use in no time,” Bombur chuckled.

“Three of us, actually. We hired a human to help us with the work.”

At that, Bombur gave him a strange look. “A human?” he repeated. “That’s surprising—why not another dwarrow?”

Bifur at a few more bites of soup. “Well, for one, Will’s over six feet tall, so he can reach where we _can’t,_ ” he began. “Secondly, he’s a woodworker and a damned fine one at that.”

Berez nodded in understanding. “Makes sense,” he said. “We don’t know many folks who are good with wood, after all.”

“Apparently, he and Bofur are already becoming fast friends with the lad’s family, as they own the inn they’re staying in,” Gerdi explained.

Taking a seat, Bombur smiled. “Really? That’s good to hear! Is the inn a good place?”

“A really good place,” Bifur grinned. “It’s clean, comfortable, the food’s _almost_ as good as yours, and the family understands dwarrow customs.” With his bowl nearly empty now, he lifted it up and started to drink straight from it. When he was finished, he let out a satisfied belch and patted his stomach. “And it’s appropriately named: The Full Tankard. I don’t recall a single time our drinks were empty for longer than five minutes.”

Bombur scratched his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “The Full Tankard, eh? May have to pay the place a visit if ever we head into Dale.”

‘Oh no—I shouldn’t have mentioned the food,’ Bifur thought. ‘Bombur could easily empty out their pantry if they don’t get a proper warning!’

* * *

Ori scrunched his nose up slightly as he tried his best to draw a straight line, though the position he was sitting in made that a bit difficult. He dragged the pencil along the page, keeping his wrist locked while using his shoulder to move his arm. While he did get a straight line, it wasn’t at the right angle and he grumbled, using a bit of special wax to remove the line from the paper.

Sighing, he tilted his head back against the wall before rubbing his face with his hands and unknowingly smearing lead all over his skin. He then marked the page in his sketchbook and closed it before looking around. For the better part of the day, he had been sitting in the corner of the shop, working on designing a mural for the main room.

As such, he had spent most of the day lost in his own little world, not noticing when it had been Warren instead of Baylee who had come in with lunch for him, Bofur, and Will. Bofur and Will had left some food beside him, of course, only to be amused as he continued to draw with his left hand while unconsciously eating and drinking with his right hand.

Stretching out his arms and back, he couldn’t help but yawn before he stood up. Will and Bofur were missing from the front of the building, so he headed into the kitchen to find them at the table. Will sat on a stool while Bofur stood, pointing at a sheet of paper between them.

“Aye, they’re fairly simple designs, but they make for toys loved by little tykes all over,” Bofur was saying. “You wouldn’t believe how large o’ a demand we used t’ have for these back in Ered Luin—these horses, especially!”

As he approached the table, Ori could see drawings of wooden animals on the paper. “I remember those,” he said, taking the other two by surprise. “Those are the animals you, Bifur, and Thorin would carve to help finance the quest.”

Will’s brows furrowed. “Quest? What quest?” he asked. “And who’s Thor—” His brows suddenly rose. “…You don’t mean Thorin _Oakenshield_ , do you?”

“O’ course he does,” Bofur laughed.

“How do you know the King o’ Erebor!?”

Bofur and Ori exchanged confused looks before Bofur smacked himself on the forehead. “Ah, aye, that’s right, it was your ­ _sister_ I told…” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry about that, lad. Ori, Bifur, an’ me were part o’ Thorin’s Company.”

A look of awe came to Will’s face as he stared at the two of them. Slowly, his hand rose up to rub the back of his head as he let out a small chuckle. “Wow,” he finally said. “Can’t say I was expectin’ to hear _that_ today. Though, ah…you may want t’ be careful with that information,” he then warned. “While there are plenty o’ us here in Dale who appreciate all the good you lot did, there are some folk who survived the Battle who…aren’t the fondest o’ you.” A guilty expression came to his face. “My auntie being one of them. But, ah, don’t worry too much about me, dad, an’ Baylee! We’re some o’ the ones on your side.”

The two dwarves nodded in understanding, though they did look a little confused by this news. However, it was understandable, given the events that preceded the Battle of Five Armies. Though Thorin had rectified his mistakes and had doled out more compensation than was needed, there were still those who couldn’t forgive him and his company for the lives that had been lost.

“We’ll be sure t’ keep it to ourselves whenever your aunt’s around, then,” Bofur said. He gave him a reassuring smile. “We don’t usually announce it anymore, anyway.”

“The novelty o’ being recognized as heroes among dwarrowkind has worn off,” Ori joked.

Will chuckled, his brow rising. “Well, as my mum used t’ say, it’s always better t’ be humble even when your circumstances give ya the chance t’ brag.” As he spoke, he itched his hands; they felt rather prickly all of a sudden. “Which is why Bard makes such a good king for us. Aye, he’s descended from kings, but he started life as a fisherwoman’s son.”

“Aye, when we first met him, he and his little ones lived in basically a shack,” Bofur said with a nod of agreement. “He’s a good man. I’m glad t’ see that he’s doing much better.”

“Me, too. He was me an’ Baylee’s best friend growin’ up.” He scratched at his hands again. “Our family always did our best t’ help him in any way possible, but when the old Master found out, he started t’ tax the hell out o’ us. He had always hated how well-liked Bard was.” His nose then scrunched up as he looked down at his hands as the itching started to turn into a burning feeling; he was surprised to find that they were bright red.

Ori looked down at his hands as well. “…Are you alright?” he asked. “That doesn’t look very healthy.”

“I’m…not sure what’s going on,” he admitted. “They just started itching and burnin’ out o’ nowhere. Maybe I touched something that didn’t settle well with my skin?”

Bofur frowned as well. “Let me get you some fresh water an’ you can wash them off. Maybe that’ll help,” he offered. “If not, back at the inn, I’ve some salve that could help.”

“Thanks, Bofur,” Will said, rubbing his hands now instead of scratching them. “I don’t know what I could have touched, though…We haven’t opened any walls, so it can’t be dust…”

“Maybe it’s one of the plants you touched out in the garden?” Ori suggested as Bofur grabbed a bucket and headed outside. “Or maybe some of the mold from the rotten bits of the privy is what did it?”

“Could be. I just hope washin’ my hands helps it go away. It’s really annoying.” He pouted somewhat, moving to rest his hands atop the table. “I need t’ get back to building that new privy…”

Going over to the window, Ori peered out of it and up at the sky. He saw that it was late afternoon and the sun would be dipping into the horizon within the next hour or so. “Are you sure you’ll have enough time t’ even get started on it today?” he asked, looking back at the human. “It’s getting late.” He couldn’t believe it was that late already; it felt like he had only just started drawing a little while ago.

“I think I’d be able to at least get the frame built,” he said. He moved the papers around on the desk, rearranging them so that the blueprints for a dwarven-style privy seat were on top. “It looks fairly simple in its construction anyway. I’ll need t’ make adjustments for Bofur an’ Bifur’s height as well as for the space it’ll be located in.”

Returning to the table, Ori looked at the blueprints; as he expected, there was a breakdown of how to build the seat, but all the writing was in dwarvish runes. “Was Bofur translating it for you…?” he asked. “Unless that nurse of yours also taught you how t’ read our language, I don’t think you’d be able t’ get the numbers right.”

“Oh, aye, he was goin’ over the numbers with me earlier. But then we got sidetracked by the toy diagrams.” He smiled innocently as he scratched at his hands again.

Luckily, it was then that Bofur came back inside, a bucket of fresh water in hand. Standing on his tiptoes, he filled a basin on the counter with the water before setting the bucket on the floor. “Here you go, lad,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Nice an’ cool, too, so it should soothe some of the burnin’.”

“Thanks.” Giving the dwarf an appreciative smile, Will went over and, grabbing the bar of soap that sat in a wooden dish, dunked his hands into the water so he could start scrubbing them. A sigh of relief soon left his mouth; the burning had gone away completely and, as he pulled his hands from the water, he found them back to their usual color. “That is _so_ much better,” he said, moving to dry them off on a towel.

“The wonders that a simple bar o’ soap can do,” Bofur grinned. “Glad your hands are feelin’ better, lad.”

“Me, too. Still wish I knew what made them do that, though,” he sighed. Shaking his head, he went over to the table and plucked up the privy blueprints. “I think I best go get started on that frame now. If you need anything, you’ll know where t’ find me.” He smiled at the two before heading into the privy room.

Bofur then looked at Ori. “How was your designin’ coming along, lad?” he asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled at the younger dwarf. “You looked fairly absorbed by it, so we did our best t’ not disturb you.”

Ori felt his cheeks grow warm, but he smiled. “I have good start on it,” he said, moving to set the sketchbook on the table. He opened it to the page he had marked before spinning it around to show him. “You said you wanted something carefree for the mural, but also something simple. So I thought that maybe the walls could be a mural o’ the outdoors, with blue sky an’ white clouds an’ green hills. Add in some bushes or trees with a few children flying kites or some cute animals. Make the ceiling part o’ the sky, with the sun painted in the middle…all o’ it painted in a very simple style, o’ course.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then again, it may be _too_ simple…”

Shaking his head as he looked at the two pages filled with various small thumbnails of potential murals, Bofur smiled. “Nonsense, lad! These are all exactly what Bifur an’ I were thinkin’!” he told him. “We wanted a bit o’ a storybook feel t’ the place and these are most definitely storybook. When he gets back from Erebor, Bifur will love t’ see what ya came up with for the mural.” He then turned the book back towards Ori. “Have you started on the sign yet or are you focusin’ on one thing at a time?”

“One thing at a time. The sign is goin’ to take a lot more brainpower t’ do, since I have to remember it’s going to be carved from wood.” Closing the sketchbook, he tucked it back into its special holder on his belt. “I did take detailed notes o’ what the two o’ you wanted on it, though, so I’ll have a bit stronger o’ an idea about which direction t’ go in for that.”

“Good, good…I’m sure whatever ya come up with, though, will be amazing.” He grinned and reached over, giving Ori a little nudge. “You’ve got a really good mind for this sort o’ thing. Bifur an’ me can come up with all sorts of different toys, but we’re a bit hopeless with this sort of thing.”

Ori felt his cheeks turn a bit pink at the compliment. “I-I wouldn’t say you’re hopeless,” he told him. “I’m sure whatever you two could come up with would still look good. Especially once you put some paint on it.”

Bofur snorted. “The paint would make it look even worse because we tried t’ fit too much onto the sign.” He shook his head. “No, no…this is why we’re commissionin’ you for these designs. An’ so far, it seems we made an excellent decision, goin’ with you.”

His cheeks growing even warmer, Ori shyly glanced down at the floor. “I-I just hope the final products turn out as good as you hope.”

“Between you an’ Will? I’m sure it’ll turn out even better.”

Nearly three hours later found the trio walking into the courtyard of the Full Tankard. They were talking quite happily about the work they had done today, as minor as it was, and how they couldn’t wait to get some dinner in their bellies. At first, they didn’t notice the figures sitting by the well, nor did they hear the soft sniffling. But when a bit of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, Bofur looked over only to find Baylee crying as her uncle gently dabbed something on her hands.

“What happened to Miss Baylee!?” he gasped, stopping in his tracks.

Will and Ori turned, also looking over at the well. Seeing his sister crying, Will swore and ran over; the dwarves were on his heels.

“Valar’s grace, Baylee, what happened?” Will asked, coming to a halt beside her. As he looked down at her arms, his eyes widened in horror. From her elbow down, there were large patches of her skin that looked as if they had been scalded. ‘Is this why my hands felt like they were burning earlier?’ he thought. Sitting down on the well behind his sister, he gently rubbed her back.

“Lye burns,” Richard told them. “Turns out, the soap we had bought was either improperly mixed or improperly cured.” He lightly dabbed some milky liquid onto her arm, the light pressure still enough to make her wince. “Warren’s already had it all thrown down the privy.” He jumped slightly as Will suddenly sneezed.

The strong scent of lavender wafted past Ori’s nose, almost making him want to sneeze. “Soap can leave burns like this if it’s not made right?” he questioned.

Baylee nodded as she sniffled. “Normally, you’d notice them a lot faster than I did,” she said, her voice shaky from pain, “but since I was usin’ hot—not boilin’, mind you, just hot—water, I just thought it was just the heat o’ that that was making my skin do this. But then I washed that last sheet after my arms had dried off an’ it just started burnin’ like crazy.”

“And sadly, it seems that my concoction of milk, lavender, and honey is doing nothing to help,” Richard sighed. “But it’s also meant more for sunburns than lye burns.”

Bofur’s eyes widened. “Wait, I have somethin’ that might help!” he told them. “I’ll go get it!” Turning, he made to start sprinting away, but he turned back around and pointed at Baylee. “Stay there.” _Then_ he sprinted off.

A small laugh managed to leave her mouth at Bofur’s antic. “Glad t’ see I’m not the only one who does that. Though, I usually do it t’ things I’ve set down an’ not people.” She quietly squeaked in surprise as Will sneezed again; this time, it was slightly muted, as he had sneezed into the crook of his arm.

“Sorry,” he groaned.

“Oh, Bofur does it t’ anything,” Ori told her. “He one time did it t’ a spider he wanted t’ take out of…somewhere. I don’t quite remember where. But when he got back an’ found the spider had moved three feet to the left, he gave it quite the scolding…an’ then proceeded to swear and yelp as it crawled off the paper an’ up his arm.”

The three humans all laughed at that. “That sounds like Bofur,” Will chuckled, still rubbing Baylee’s back.

“He is a bit of an odd one,” Richard smiled. “But the good sort o’ odd. Though, it’s beyond me why he’d want t’ try and save a spider’s life…” His nose scrunched up slightly and he shook his head. “Nasty things they are.”

“They’re alright,” Baylee sniffled, “so long as they stay in their corner an’ don’t come near me when I’m sleepin’.” She clenched her eyes in pain as she ever so slowly lowered her arms so that they rested on her lap.

For the third time, Will sneezed, though no one was terribly surprised this time.

‘Good thing neither of them have been to Mirkwood, then,’ thought Ori. He glanced down at her arms again and frowned; he still couldn’t believe that those burns had been caused by _soap_ of all things.

Standing up, Richard carried the bowl of lavender-honey milk across the yard only to pour it over some flowers that grew near the kitchen door. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able t’ help you, love,” he said as he came back over. “If my stores o’ poultices an’ salves weren’t so low, I’m sure I’d be a bit more useful.”

“S’not your fault, uncle,” she told him. She gave him a small, wobbly smile. “It helped at first, but I guess the burns dislike lavender as much as I do.”

“You don’t like lavender?” Ori questioned, his brow rising.

The three of them shook their heads in unison. “We use it t’ keep bedding fresh in unused rooms,” Baylee explained, “so we constantly have t’ smell it.” She winced and let out a soft whimper when, as she shifted her position, she bumped her arm against her knee.

“And lavender is a plant with many medicinal uses,” Richard added. “I used to like it, but that was _before_ I became a heal—” He was interrupted as, yet again, Will sneezed.

“It just makes me sneeze likes crazy,” Will groaned, his voice sounding a bit nasally now. “Too much o’ it can also make it a bit hard for me to breathe.”

Ori nodded in understanding. “Good thing I don’t know anyone who uses much lavender,” he chuckled. “Most dwarrows I know prefer earthier scents.”

Richard was about to reply, but Bofur came bursting out of the inn. “Got it!” he called as he ran over. As he got closer, the four could see that he held a clay pot. “Feels nearly full, too, so there should be plenty.” He opened it, showing the contents to the group.

To them, it just looked like a glossy, white paste filled with colorful flecks. To him, it was a miracle worker for burns of any kind. Though, it did have a strange smell to it, which made Richard raise his brow.

“May I ask what it’s made of?” Richard asked, his brow rising slightly as he caught wind of the smell.

Will sneezed again, startling Bofur.

“I’m…not really sure,” Bofur admitted, looking into the pot. “A healer back in Ered Luin made it. I _do_ know it has a couple o’ different oils in it as well as some chamomile an’ blackberry leaves.” He then glanced at Will. “An’ you, lad, have quite the powerful sneeze there.”

“Blame the lavender,” Will chuckled, his voice still a bit nasally.

Richard nodded in understanding, chuckling slightly at his nephew’s words. “Both chamomile an’ blackberry leaves are good for burns. And that combination would also explain its strange smel—”

“Richard!” He turned as he heard his wife’s voice. “Richard, I know you’re tendin’ to Baylee, but Gawen needs your help urgently—he’s gone an’ cut himself quite bad.”

“I’ll be right there, Delza,” he called, using her pet name. He looked back at Bofur. “Would you mind applying it to Baylee’s arms? My wife _always_ underestimates the severity of wounds,” he sighed.

“No trouble at all,” Bofur smiled. He took his spot when Richard stood up, setting the clay pot down on the stone. Removing his gloves, he tucked them away in his pocket and pushed his sleeves up slightly. “Alright, lass…this _will_ sting a bit at first, but I promise, it’ll have your arm cool an’ pleasantly tingly in no time.” He scooped up a good amount and divided it between his hands.

She nodded in understanding. “Whatever helps the pain go away,” she murmured. Holding out one arm, she flinched as Bofur gently smeared the salve onto her skin.

“Sorry, lass,” he frowned.

“N-no, it’s fine. Anythin’ touchin’ it hurts right now.”

“Then let me know if I need t’ be gentler, aye?” He gave her a small smile before beginning to carefully rub the salve into her skin. “I don’t want t’ put you in any more pain than you’re already in.”

Baylee found herself amazed by just how gentle he was being; for some reason, she had always thought dwarves would be quite heavy-handed. She was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. Feeling Will set his hand on her shoulder, she looked up at him.

“Will you be alright if I head inside t’ go get cleaned up?” he asked, concern on his face.

“Aye, I will,” she told him. “My arm’s already feelin’ nice an’ cool where he’s got the stuff.”

“Alright then.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing up.

“I think I’ll head in, too,” Ori told them. “I’d like to wash this lead off my face before dinner.”

Both nodded, though Baylee spoke. “Dinner’s a choice o’ roast chicken an’ venison stew tonight, by the way.”

Will brightened at this. “Venison stew? It’s been ages since we’ve had that!”

“Bard went hunting an’ got two elk. He gave us the bigger o’ them.” She smiled at her brother’s enthusiasm before looking back down at her arms.

“Will mentioned your family’s quite close t’ the king,” Bofur commented as the other two walked off. He was still being extra gentle as he scooped up more of the salve, working it into her skin in small circles.

She nodded again. “Aye. Him, Will, our friend, Primrose, an’ me have been friends since childhood,” she explained. “The four o’ us were nigh inseparable well into our teen years. An’ we could be quite the troublemakers at times…We’re still all good friends, though we’ve understandably got less time t’ spend together now.”

He chuckled quietly. “For some reason, I just can’t picture either Bard or you bein’ troublemakers. Bard’s far too serious from what I’ve seen an’ you’re just far too sweet. But Will—now _there’s_ a lad I can see getting into all sorts o’ trouble. Can’t say anything about this Primrose, though, given that I don’t know her.”

Baylee felt her cheeks grow a bit warm as he called her ‘sweet’. “Well, Bard an’ I were actually the biggest troublemakers in our little group,” she admitted with a small laugh. “He an’ I would sneak around an’ tie everyone’s boats t’ one another or we’d managed t’ set a few hogs loose in the market…As ya can imagine, in Laketown, both were very bothersome things.” She lightly shook her head, still laughing. “There was even this one time when we were teens that we broke into the Master’s kitchen an’ pantry. We stole some of his finest wine and some o’ his desserts before rowing out with Will an’ Prim to the middle o’ the lake so we could watch the fallin’ stars.”

His brow rose, a wide grin on his lips. “Why, Miss Baylee, I would have never taken you for a lowly thief!” he teased. “Stealin’ the Master’s wine…” He clicked his tongue in faux disappointment, though he was happy to see that she was no longer crying. “How much trouble did you get in?”

It was her turn to grin broadly. “None. The Master never knew we took the wine or the sweets. Our parents, however, knew we had taken _someone’s_ wine, as we were all badly hungover the next mornin’.”

“At least you had a fun night,” he chuckled. “I take it you don’t go sneakin’ into the pantries o’ authority figures anymore though, aye?”

“Oh, heavens no!” she giggled. “That was the only time we risked it. We also learned that the Master had terrible taste in wine.”

His brow rose at that. “Aye, I remember when he let us stay the night in his home—the wine was horrible. I had t’ keep drinking it in order to get drunk enough t’ forget its taste!” He shook his head as he scooped up a bit more of the salve, beginning to gently rub it into her hand now. Though she was a human, her hands were still a good deal smaller than his. “Am I still bein’ gentle enough, by the way?”

“Aye, you are.” She watched as he slowly worked the salve into the back of her hand before turning it over to work it into her palm. She, too, noticed the difference in the sizes of her hand and, for some reason, it made her cheeks grow a bit warm. “The wine the Master gave you might’ve tasted bad because it could have been on its way t’ turning into vinegar by that time.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. He was a disgustin’ looking man, so it’d make sense for his food t’ be disgustin’, too.” He smiled as he heard her giggle again. “Don’t have t’ worry about that here, though…I daresay, this inn’s got the best wine I’ve had in years—not that I often drink wine.”

“You’re more o’ a beer and ale dwarf,” she replied. “With the occasional mug o’ morning tea.”

“The tea is a fairly recent addition t’ the morning routine.” He started to work the salve into her fingers, taking care when he had to go between them to cover the entirety of the digits. “I used t’ have cider like Bifur, but I found that it was more likely t’ make me want t’ go _back_ t’ bed rather than wake me up. Tea, on the other hand, perks me right up.”

She quietly laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind if ever you’re feelin’ really sleepy one morning.” Glancing up from his hands, she saw that there was a gentle smile on his face that, in her opinion, made him look quite handsome; the realization made her cheeks turn a bit pinker and she quickly looked back down at her hands, not wanting him to notice her staring. “So why do you have this salve? I wouldn’t think a toymaker would burn themselves much—unless it’s also good for cuts?”

“Ah, I do occasionally still burn myself,” he explained with a chuckle. “Mostly when I’m cookin’. Though, we do sometimes use fire when makin’ toys. But I had t’ use a lot o’ this stuff when I was still a miner.” He reached over, getting more of the salve on his fingers before gently taking her other arm and giving it the same treatment; he felt her stiffen slightly, but knew it couldn’t be helped. “We had these helmets that had little boxes that we’d stick candles in so we could see what we were doin’. Most o’ the time, you’d forget about the candles and go t’ push the helmet back only to end up burning your fingers or wrist. This was a lifesaver down there. I think there’s even still a stack o’ empty pots lying around my old house somewhere in the Blue Mountains.”

Baylee slowly nodded in understanding. “You used t’ be a miner?”

“Aye. Once I turned thirty—that’s when we dwarves come o’ age—I headed off t’ work in the mines. Worked in ‘em for nearly twenty years before I learned I was better at toymaking!” He chuckled quietly, a reminiscent smile on his lips. “Normally, I wouldn’t have been allowed t’ work in the mines even at that age, but I had t’ earn us some money since Bifur’s hunting couldn’t always be reliable—animals can be so finicky, after all. But, aye, the boss o’ the nearest mine let me come work for him.”

Her head tilted somewhat. “Why did you have t’ start in a mine so young? Wasn’t there any other jobs you could have taken?” It was a bit odd, now knowing that dwarves came of age at thirty—especially she and Will would be turning thirty in a few months.

“Bombur an’ I lost our parents real young; they weren’t even a hundred yet. So Bifur took us in,” he began. “Mahal bless him for it, too, because Bombur wasn’t even a year old at that point. Somehow, he managed t’ keep us alive long enough t’ teach us how to somewhat fend for ourselves. He had _some_ help, o’ course, but ah…well, pardon my language, but Bombur an’ me could be little shits at times.” He grinned as he heard her crack up once more. “We could! We’d get into all sorts o’ trouble when we were little: We’d constantly run away from our babysitter; we’d fall asleep during our lessons or see who could make the loudest fart in the middle of them; we’d sneak out durin’ the night…Aye, we were little shits.”

She continued to giggle. “Aye, it certainly sounds like it!” she agreed. “But I see that you, at least, have grown out o’ that stage.”

Bofur felt his cheeks get a bit warm. “You haven’t seen me when I’m drunk,” he told her, his tone matter-of-fact. “I can still be quite the nuisance an’ what’s worse is that I’m even better at it now than I was then. Now I know bawdy songs, crude jokes, _an’_ how to wrestle.”

“Ah, but sometimes, a bawdy song or crude joke is just what an occasion calls for!” she laughed.

His brow rose as he glanced up at her; he found that her cheeks were quite pink, but he thought it was just from her laughing. “Why, Miss Baylee, don’t tell me a sweet little thing like yourself enjoys listenin’ to those sorts o’ things,” he said, feigning horror. “A respectable lady should shun that sort o’ thing!” A cheeky grin came to his lips as she started to laugh even harder now.

“Y-you sound just like my best friend!” she laughed, tears of mirth forming in the corners of her eyes. “She’s always doin’ her best t’ make sure I maintain a respectable reputation—but I live an’ work at an inn, so hearin’ bawdy songs and jokes is inevitable.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with a little crude humor now an’ then. Even Thorin partakes in the occasional lewd singalong while Lady Dis is well known for her treasure trove o’ rude jokes. …O’ course, a good portion o’ them are aimed at a certain race o’ tall, pointy-eared fellows, but she doesn’t use those quite as often anymore, since she’s about t’ get one for a daughter-in-law…”

As he filled a mug with some ale, Will leaned over slightly so he could look out of the window to check on Bofur and Baylee. He was just in time to see the two of them burst into a fit of laughter, their cheeks bright red. His brow rose slightly; he hadn’t seen his sister laugh that hard in _years_ …

Out of nowhere, he felt something cold trickling down his hand. “Ah, crap,” he muttered, looking back to find the mug overflowing. Quickly twisting the valve shut, he grabbed a rag so he could wipe down the sides of the tankard.

“You alright, lad?” Bifur asked, his brow raised as he waited on the other side of the counter. He had returned to Dale an hour ago and would have gone to the shop if he hadn’t had a small crate of mushrooms to deliver to Galiene—a gift from Gerdi for treating him and Bofur so well. “You seem a wee bit distracted.”

His cheeks reddening with embarrassment, Will set the ale down on the bar for him. “Distracted? Oh, no, no. I was just checkin’ on Baylee and Bofur.” He then crouched down to wipe up the spilled alcohol.

“They’re still out there?” Leaving the ale for now, he rounded the corner of the bar and went to look out the window himself. The pair were still sitting at the well, Bofur halfway done with Baylee’s right arm and both laughing their heads off. A smile came to his lips. “I see Bofur’s got her laughin’ her head off, so even if the salve isn’t workin’, his jokes seems t’ be at least.”

“They must be some good jokes,” he chuckled. He tossed the rag into a bucket of used rags before grabbing a second tankard to fill with beer. “I haven’t seen ‘Lee laugh that hard in years. It’s nice t’ see.”

At that, Bifur cocked his head. “Really?” That struck him as odd; he had seen her laughing plenty of times over the last few weeks. But, admittedly, none of those times had been as hard as she was laughing now. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me that Bofur’s able t’ do it. He’s got a lot o’ humor stored in that noggin’ o’ his…I just hope that, whatever he’s sayin’ t’ her, he’s not telling her the crude stuff.”

Will snorted. “Oh, even if he is sayin’ a rude joke or two, she won’t mind. Baylee’s got a few o’ them stored away herself.” Grabbing a third tankard, he filled this one with cider for Ori. Then, setting it down beside his beer, he went to go look out the window again. He was just in time to see Bofur laughing so hard, he nearly toppled sideways; luckily, Baylee caught him and got him upright again, which only made them laugh harder. A smile came to his lips. “It’s nice t’ see her laughing so much.”

“Those two get along quite well, don’t they?” Bifur chuckled. “Then again, your sister seems to get along well with almost anyone. Don’t think I’ve see a person she dislikes yet.”

“That’s because most o’ them moved back to Laketown,” he laughed. “But aye, she’s a sweet thing. Always has been…Which is why mum had her start workin’ in the inn. Her sweetness combined with her memory, balancing skills, an’ her tininess made her a perfect candidate for ensuring our customers got good service.” His brow rose slightly; though it was a bit hard to see his sister’s expression from there, he could have sworn that her smile looked shyer than normal. “I will say, though, she’s takin’ quite a shinin’ to you lads. I think it might be your shorter statures—no offense meant, o’ course. I’m being quite serious.”

“None taken, lad,” he snorted. “It could very well be the reason, after all. I hate t’ say it, but I do find some non-dwarves t’ be quite intimidating due to their heights. Admittedly, you an’ your father were among them until I got t’ know the both o’ you better. So, perhaps, it’s the same for her?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he returned to his ale, glad to find that no one had tried to take it while he was watching Baylee and Bofur.

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m quite thankful that she’s got herself some more friends. An’ I’m not just saying that because they happen t’ also be my bosses.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update for both hobbit fics because today is my birthday! If I were a dwarf, I would be coming of age (30) today. Also, it's purely coincidental that the chapter 8s are going up on August 8th XD

_“The goblins will be here at any minute,” Demelza called out. “Pile as much stuff in front of these doors as you can!”_

_Glancing over her shoulder, Baylee saw the last of the women and children hurrying into the great hall. Behind them, a white-haired woman and her aunt were yanking the doors shut. Both wore armor already stained with the black blood of orcs and goblins. Across the courtyard were two more women, also in armor. Both had dirty-blonde hair like her aunt, but blue eyes like her uncle; they were divvying up arrows between the two of them._

_She bit her lower lip and looked over at a fifth woman who was quickly running a stone along the edges of a sword. Her hair was long and blonde and her face covered in freckles. Her green eyes—the same green as her and Will’s eyes—kept glancing between the sword and the entrance to the courtyard. She then flicked her thumb against the sword’s blade. Deeming it sharp enough, she hurried over to Baylee._

_“Here, my filly,” she said and, as she spoke, Baylee could see that she also had buckteeth, much like herself. “It’s not the best quality, but it will have to do.”_

_Taking the sword from her, she tested its weight before turning to the side and twirling it in her hand. She also took a couple of test swipes with it before looking back at the woman. “It’s better than the practice sword we had in Laketown,” she said, trying to bring a bit of optimism to the otherwise hopeless situation they were in. “Definitely better balanced.”_

_The woman smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Setting her hand on Baylee’s shoulder, she pulled her close and embraced her. “I’m sorry it must be this way, my filly,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you must live to see such times.”_

_Returning the embrace, Baylee clenched her eyes shut as she felt tears beginning to well up. “Things will get better, mama,” she whispered. “We’re going t’ win this war. I know we will.”_

_Leaning back, she looked down at her daughter with tear-streaked cheeks. “My little ray of sunshine,” she murmured, setting a hand on her cheek. She jumped as there was a loud crack that was soon followed by a crash._

_“They’ve broken through the gate!” Demelza shouted. “_ _É_ _olynna, you handle the east courtyard; Lovisa, you handle the west. Baylee, you guard the doors. I’ll be in the middle. Eira, Elle—cover us from the top o’ the wall!”_

_É_ _olynna kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I’ll see you at the end of this, filly,” she whispered, “whether here or in the halls of our foremothers.”_

_“Be safe, mama,” she whispered back as she watched her mother sprint away._

Baylee’s eyes snapped open, her heart racing and her breathing ragged. She swallowed hard and raised her hands to her face, quietly cursing under her breath. After a few minutes, she pulled her hands away and sat up, looking around. The room around her was dark, though a bit of moonlight filtered in through a gap in her curtains. Sniffling, she used her hand to wipe some tears from her face before she slipped out of bed.

‘That’s the fifth time in two weeks,’ she told herself as she crossed her room. Lifting a pitcher from her dresser, she poured herself a cup of water. ‘I went nearly two years without having a nightmare and now they’re coming back with a vengeance…’ Sighing, she leaned against her dresser and slowly drank the water. ‘At least I can still wake myself up before things get _too_ bad.’

_Tap-tap-tap_

Her brow rose as she heard the sound and she paused in her drinking. She knew there was a tree that grew close to her window, but unless it was storming out, it rarely ever tapped against her window.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap_

Opening her eyes, she slowly made her way over to the window nearest her bed only to let out another curse. She pushed aside the curtains and unlocked it before lifting it open. As she stuck her head out, a frown came to her lips. “William Braddock, what do you think you’re doing?!” she quietly hissed.

Will looked up at her as he balanced on a branch below her window, an innocent grin on his lips and a stick in his hand. “I went for a little walk, but not only did I forget t’ grab the spare key, but I forgot t’ unlock my window, too,” he told her. “Do you think you could help your little brother out?”

Her brow rose once more as she rested her arms on the windowsill. “A little walk, eh? This late at night?” she questioned.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d try t’ tire myself out.”

“Mhm, I’m sure that’s the case.” Her tone made it all too obvious she didn’t believe him. “I’m sure you were just taking a little walk all by your lonesome an’ _not_ with Adela Stover.” She grinned as she watched Will’s eyes widened and his jaw go slack.

“H-How did you--?!” he gaped, unable to form a complete sentence.

She shrugged, propping her chin in her palm. “A few days ago, Prim gave me a lemon pie an’ said it was from her cousin. Now, bein’ that the Stover family are our business rivals—an’ dad’s archenemy in Mannus’ case—I wondered why Adela would give me, o’ all people, a pie. Until, that is, until Prim told me she had one for you, too.”

Though it was hard to see in the moonlight, she could just _barely_ make out her brother’s cheeks growing darker. “C-can we talk about this _inside_?” he asked, rubbing the side of his neck.

“Do you _promise_ t’ stay long enough to talk about it?”

“Aye, I do.”

Leaning over the sill, she offered her brother her hand and, when he grabbed onto it, she started to pull him up. A quiet grunt left her mouth; Will obviously weighed much more than the platters of food and drink she was used to carrying. But nevertheless, she managed to pull him up enough that he could grab onto her windowsill and finish pulling himself up.

“Thanks, ‘Lee,” he told her, his voice quieter now. Though the walls were thick and blocked sound out well, he didn’t want to risk waking their father across the hall.

She gave him a small nod and, leaving the window open, went to sit back on her bed. “Now plop your arse down and tell me just how you and the prettiest woman in Dale came t’ start courtin’ in secret.”

He chuckled, rubbing the side of his neck as he plopped down at the foot of her bed. “She _is_ the prettiest woman in the whole o’ Dale, isn’t she?” Though she couldn’t see it, Baylee knew he wore a silly grin. “It’s a bit o’ a funny story, really…” He let himself flop backwards, his hands behind his head. “She’s apparently had a bit o’ a crush on me for ages now.”

“An’ you’ve had a crush on her since we were kids,” she chuckled.

“Aye. But neither o’ us wanted to risk telling the other since, well…da’ and Mannus basically want one another dead. So, one day, I got a summons from Bard.”

Her brows furrowed. “From _Bard_?”

He nodded, despite knowing she probably couldn’t see it. “Aye, Bard. It was him requesting my assistance with some cupboards in his kitchen that were getting stuck. Being as he’s my best friend, I gathered my tools and went to go see what I could do right away.

“When I got there, he was waitin’ for me, o’ course, but who else did he happen to have over that day? He had Adela over! She was givin’ Sigrid a baking lesson, since Sigrid had apparently been wantin’ to know how to make cookies an’ Gwyneth wasn’t feeling well that day.”

A grin came to Baylee’s lips. “Ahh, I see…Once she finished with Sigrid’s lesson an’ you finished with the cupboards, that gave the two o’ you a bit of time to be alone.”

“Exactly.”

“Never figured Bard t’ be matchmaker, but that was a very clever move o’ him,” she giggled. “So how long ago was this…?”

Will was silent for a moment. “…About three years ago,” he admitted. “I know, I know—that’s a long time of havin’ a secret courtship without tellin’ you an’ I’m sorry. But…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been nervous, since she’s a Stover. I’m not ashamed that she’s a Stover, o’ course, but I have been a bit afraid o’ the family’s reactions. Yours an’ da’s especially.”

Shaking her head, Baylee let out a small chuckle. “You have nothin’ to worry about from me, you secretive arsemunch.” Grabbing her pillow, she lightly hit him with it, earning a laugh from her brother. “She makes you happy and that’s all that matters to me. If she were Dardana, however, _then_ we might have a problem.”

He blew a quiet raspberry at her. “Why would I _ever_ think about courtin’ the wench that bullies my big sister?” he questioned, his brow rising.

“Stranger things have happened in this world.”

“Aye, but I’m not about t’ let that one happen. _Ever_.” He turned his head towards her, able to see her silhouette curled up by the head of her bed. “Any secrets you’ve been needin’ to get off your chest?” he half-joked. “Any new crushes or secret romances o’ your own?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish,” she smiled. “…T’ be honest, I wish, too. But it would appear that I’m the borin’ twin.”

“You sure? I mean, there’s got to be _something,_ right?” His tone was a bit hopeful, though he knew he shouldn’t expect much. Baylee didn’t have much free time and what free time she _did_ have, she mostly spent with Primrose or out in the fields, riding her horse.

A quiet sigh left her mouth. “I started having the nightmares again,” she told him, her tone almost guilty.

Will was silent for a moment or two, processing her words; that was _not_ the kind of secret he had been expecting her to spill. “…Are you really?” he asked, his voice soft. “They’re really back?”

She nodded. “I…had actually just woken up from one before you tapped on my window.” She winced slightly as an exasperated sigh left her brother’s mouth.

“You went so long without one…I had hoped they were gone for good!” Sitting up, he scooted over to the head of the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, ‘Lee. I—I know how horrible they are for you.”

“I just wish I knew why they came back.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze as she sniffled. “Do…do you think there’s a chance they’re back because o’ the lads?”

She shook her head. “No. I started havin’ them _before_ I found out they were part o’ Thorin’s company.” She sniffled again, though she tried her best not to. “I don’t think they’d be so bad if they were just normal nightmares—you know, a scary story my mind makes up. But these are actual memories an’ the fact that I keep havin’ to relive them over an’ over…That I keep havin’ t’ see mama—t’ see mama—” A quiet sob left her mouth and Will brought her closer.

“And uncle can’t make you any o’ that special tea that makes you have a dreamless sleep because his supplies are so low.” He let out a heavy sigh, gently rocking Baylee while stroking her hair. “They’ll stop again soon. They _have_ to stop again soon…”

~*~

“You weren’t lyin’, lad: These friends o’ yours _do_ work fast!”

Will chuckled as he watched a group of five men, all of whom he had known since childhood, spread a new layer of plaster over three of the walls. The fourth would be saved for later, as they still had to knock part of it out for the window. “Now, Bifur, why in the world would I ever want t’ lie to you?” he joked before covering his mouth as he yawned.

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t lie,” Bifur chuckled. “But everyone has different definitions o’ fast an’…well, it seems we have the similar definitions.” He turned, moving to head back into the shop’s kitchen with Will on his heels. The back door was wide open, letting the two of them look out into the garden while also letting in some fresh air.

Walking over to the door, Will could see Bofur across the garden, his sleeves rolled up and his hands dirty as he tugged up some stubborn weeds. “Do you need any help over there?” he called, accidentally startling the dwarf, who promptly let go of the weed and fell on his bum. “Sorry…”

Bofur let out a small laugh, using his wrist to push his hat back a bit. “It’s alright lad—I should have been payin’ more attention. But these buggers here,” He reached out with his foot and kicked the plant, “are putting up a good fight. I already got all the smaller weeds; didn’t take much to get them.”

Walking over, Will crouched down and inspected the now-mangled plant. Finding that it wasn’t one plant, but many flowers with their roots tangled together, his brow rose and he let out a quiet laugh. “No wonder you’re having problems. These aren’t weeds—they’re sunflowers. For some reason, here in Dale, sunflowers spread their roots farther and they get tangled up in each other.”

“Sunflowers, eh? Smallest sunflowers I’ve ever seen.” His head tilted as he looked down at them; the only sunflowers he knew about either grew to be as tall as Men or grew to be half his height and were reddish-orange in color.

“That’s because they’re dwarf sunflowers.” Will’s cheeks then turned a bit red and he rubbed the side of his neck as he realized what their Westron name was. “But, ah, they’re also the hardiest of the sunflowers! They don’t have as many problems as other types.”

Bofur let out a hearty laugh—mostly at Will’s reaction to the name of the flower. “Looks like they’ll be stayin’, then,” he said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” He offered Bofur a hand up.

Taking the hand, Bofur got back to his feet and brushed himself off. “I love sunflowers. I know it’s a wee bit odd of a thing t’ say, since I’m a male, but they’re my favorite flower.”

Will looked down at him, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. “Really?” Bofur nodded. “They’re Baylee’s favorite flower, too. Back in the original Tankard, she had a whole box o’ them growing right outside her window. Every day, she would give them a bit of water and talk t’ them as if they were people.”

It was easy for Bofur to imagine such a scene, despite having never seen Baylee talk to flowers. But she was sweet and friendly enough that he wouldn’t doubt she had done it. “Well, perhaps I should dig some up then so they can be planted at the inn,” he chuckled, not realizing his cheeks had gone a bit pink. “Or does she have any ground outside her window? If not, she could have herself a box o’ them again.”

As he was about to decline Bofur’s offer, Will thought back to a few nights ago and how he had learned that his sister’s nightmares had returned. Though she always did her best to not let them sour her mood the next day, the sight of her favorite flower just outside her window might better help make her forget the nightmares. “…You know, that would actually be quite nice,” he finally said. “There’s enough scrap wood and metal here that I could fashion her a decent window box…and I could do it fairly quick, too.”

Bofur grinned up at him. “Well then, why don’t you get started on that an’ I’ll find myself a shovel to properly dig some of these up?”

“And when did the toymaker become a gardener?”

Both Bofur and Will blinked as they looked over at the door only to find Nori leaning against the frame, some amusement on his lips.

“Oi, when did you get back t’ Dale?” Bofur asked with a chuckle. He was surprised; it had only been two weeks since he and Dori left. Was Dori _that_ worried about Ori?

“About fifteen minutes ago, actually,” he replied. A smirk came to his lips. “Fili asked me t’ be his royal courier and deliver a message t’ the Tankard.”

Will frowned. “The Tankard…why?”

The dwarves exchanged confused glances. “You haven’t heard, lad?” Bofur questioned.

He shook his head. “Heard what?”

“In a few weeks, there’s going t’ be a big meeting held between Dale an’ Erebor,” Nori explained. “Bard, o’ course, will be representing Dale while Fili—our crown prince—will be representing Erebor. An’, apparently we’ve bragged enough about how nice your inn is that Fili would like t’ be there during his stay in the city.”

“Since it’s annoyin’, having to travel two hours to an’ from the cities twice a day,” Bofur added.

“Huh…I knew there was some sort o’ meeting happening soon, but I didn’t know it was supposed to be a whole royal thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do either of you know what it’s about?”

They shook their heads. “Not a clue,” Nori replied. “Your da’ might know something, though, since the meetings are apparently being held at the inn, too.”

“Hm. Seems like I’ll have t’ ask da’, then. Doesn’t surprise me Bard wants to hold it in the inn, though. He’s always felt more comfortable meeting with people in a place that’s more welcoming than his hall.”

“Well, your family an’ him do go back,” Bofur chirped. Seeing the confused look on his face, he smiled. “Miss Baylee told me about how the three o’ you grew up together—even told me ‘bout how she and Bard stole some of the Master’s wine so you an’ your other friend could have yourself a little party in the middle o’ the lake.”

Nori’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his lips. “ _Miss Baylee_ stole from someone?” he gasped. “Why, I’d never expect that sort o’ thing from her!”

“Just once an’ it was years ago,” Will laughed. “She an’ Bard considered it revenge for a new tax the Master had made to specifically drain Bard’s earnings.”

“From what I remember o’ the man, the Master seemed to have a special hatred o’ Bard,” Nori commented, his brow raised. “Is there any reason for that or was it just because the Master was an arse?”

“Both, really,” Will answered. “The Master always hated Bard an’ his family because they’re so much more likeable than he was. Bard actually cares about people an’ goes out o’ his way to help them.”

Both dwarves nodded in understanding. “That makes sense,” said Bofur. He then looked back over at Nori. “So how long are you in Dale for, Nori? Just long enough t’ deliver that message?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for as long as I want t’ be,” he replied. “I’m not only playin’ messenger, but I’m also on assignment from Thorin.” It was mostly the truth, but Bofur could tell that there was more to it than that. “On the bright side, if you need any help with the shop, I’m willin’ to help. Though it looks like you’ve got some capable lads in there now.” He watched as Will went over to the pile of scrap wood in the corner of the garden so he could start looking through the pieces.

“I’m sure we’ll take you up on that offer,” Bofur chuckled. “I just hope you don’t regret makin’ it.”

~*~

“Oh, Baylee! That looks so pretty on you!”

Baylee bit her lower lip as she looked herself over in the mirror. Standing in the back of Eidel’s shop with the seamstress and Primrose, she was finally getting to try on the clothes she had ordered a few weeks ago. So far, she had liked everything she had tried on, even if they were a bit fancier than what she was used to.

But now, as she looked over this last outfit, she found that she had liked it the best. It was fairly simple (more than likely why it was her favorite), consisting of a rich, fitted brown dress with slightly belled sleeves; a warm, golden yellow overdress; and a wide, olive-green sash around her waist. The colors all complemented one another nicely and, when she did a small twirl, the two layers fanned out nicely.

“What do you think o’ it, Miss Braddock?” Eidel asked, a bit of amusement in her voice as she watched her do the twirl.

“I really like it,” Baylee replied, a smile on her lips and her cheeks a touch pink from the Primrose’s compliment. “I think I’d actually like t’ keep wearin’ this one if that’s alright.”

At that, Eidel laughed. “O’ course it’s alright, Miss Braddock—they’re _your_ clothes,” she told her. “I’ll get the rest o’ these folded up an’ packed away for you.” She scooped up the pile of clothes and carried them out of the changing area, leaving the two women alone.

Primrose walked up behind Baylee and started using her fingers to comb through her hair. “Now we just need to get this hair of yours tamed a bit and then you’ll be the prettiest innkeeper’s daughter in Dale,” she grinned.

Baylee snorted. “Uh, I think Adela has an _extremely_ tight hold on that title,” she chuckled. “I don’t even come _close_ t’ how pretty your cousin is.”

There was a teasing grin on Primrose’s lips as she leaned in close to Baylee’s ear. “I’m sure a certain king would like t’ disagree with that,” she murmured. She giggled as Baylee’s cheeks darkened and went back to finger combing her hair. “You know, it’s been nearly five years since his wife passed…An’ he stills seems like he’s quite interested in you…”

She swallowed hard and bit her lower lip again. “I don’t know, Prim…I think our chance t’ be together has passed. Don’t get me wrong, I still care for him a great deal, but he’s usually so busy with his kingly duties an’ I’m busy with the inn…It’s not like before when he was a simple bargeman.”

Pouting, Primrose pulled back the top half of Baylee’s hair, sectioning it into three parts so she could start braiding it. “The two o’ you would be the sweetest couple, you know. Everyone thinks so. And what’s better is that his wee ones like you, too!”

‘I wasn’t good enough for him before, so what would make me good enough now?’ she thought. Knowing Primrose would disagree, though, she instead replied with, “We’ll just have t’ see what fate has in store for us, won’t we? You never know—Maybe I’m fated t’ end up with someone else.”

“I know you know a lot o’ men in this town thanks to the inn, Baylee, but I doubt any o’ them would make acceptable husbands for a woman o’ your status.”

She blew a raspberry. “I don’t care ‘bout a man’s status, you know that. I just want someone who’ll love me an’ who can make me laugh even when I’m not feelin’ the best.”

“Hm…I do suppose that’s not quite Bard,” Primrose admitted with a sigh. “Though, he would love you. And you’d be queen—how amazin’ would that be, being the queen o’ Dale?” A dreamy sigh left her mouth. “You’d get to wear such lovely clothes and get to meet so many interestin’ people! You’d even get t’ meet the king o’ Erebor!”

Baylee snorted. “I’ll be meetin’ the crown prince soon enough, since those meetings will be held in the Tankard. But from what the lads say, the prince isn’t much different from them—just younger an’ in finer clothes.”

Her brow rising, Primrose pulled a bit of ribbon from her pocket and used it to tie off the braid she had just made. “You’ve become fast friends with those dwarves, haven’t you?” she chuckled. “I know it shouldn’t surprise me, given how friendly you are…”

“Well, they’ve been livin’ at the inn for just over a month now,” she smiled. She started to lead her out from the changing area. “Not t’ mention, Bifur an’ Bofur hired my brother, all three help with the cleanin’ up on busy nights, an’ they help make breakfast some mornings. If anything, they’re some of the best guests we’ve had.” Seeing Eidel by the counter with her basket, which was now quite stuffed with clothing, she headed that way. “An’ Ori’s a sweetheart. Took him a little bit to open up, but he’s been just as helpful an’ full o’ laughter as the other two.”

“Really now? That’s surprising. I would have thought it was the elves who got that honor.” She stood off to the side slightly, waiting for Baylee to pay Eidel the other half of her fee before grabbing her basket and heading off—after giving the seamstress a hefty amount of thanks and praise, of course.

As they stepped outside, Baylee found herself blinking against the sudden increase of light. “The elves are nice, aye, but the lads are nicer. An’ Bofur saved me from having some nasty soap burns all along my arms.”

Primrose’s eyes widened. “You got a bad batch of soap, too?! Adela was telling me just yesterday that poor Aunt Hilda’s arms look as red as a freshly cooked crayfish!”

“Mine were, too, until Bofur applied some salve that dwarves use when mining.” She hopped over a puddle; normally, she would have simply walked through it, but she didn’t want to risk getting her new outfit dirty just yet. “I’m not sure what was in it, aside from chamomile and blackberry leaves, though.”

“Hm. Sounds like something your uncle needs to learn how to make.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she led Baylee through the market. “How has Will been liking his new job, by the way?”

“Oh, he absolutely adores it.” A broad smile came to her lips. “He comes home every night, exhausted, dirty, an’ smiling like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Aw, that’s wonderful to hear! Father was actually thinking about hiring him to build us a deck along the second story, but it seems like he thought on it too long.” She glanced down at her friend, glad to see that she seemed to be enjoying her new dress. “Do you know how much longer he’ll be working for them…?”

She shook her head. “There’s still a lot o’ work he needs to do around the place. Right now, they’re havin’ him focus on the important stuff—structural things, gettin’ the doors t’ fit more securely, buildin’ a new privy…” She grinned as Primrose let out an unladylike snort. “After all that’s done, he can start in on the furniture makin’ an’ then, finally, the small stuff.”

“Sounds like he might have at least a year or two’s worth of work ahead of him.”

“Which is just fine with him,” she chuckled. As they rounded the corner to head towards the Full Tankard, her head tilted somewhat when she saw Will, Bifur, Bofur, and Nori walking towards the inn from a different direction. “Huh…Wasn’t expectin’ to see Master Nori again so soon.”

Primrose’s brow rose slightly. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”

Nodding at the group of males ahead of them, Baylee smiled. “Master Nori’s back. He an’ Master Dori left not too long ago t’ return to Erebor, so I’m just surprised t’ see him back already.” She then cupped her mouth with one hand and called out, “Oi! You lads better not drink all the ale before we get there!”

The four males stopped and looked over in a mixture of amusement and surprise. They waved and waited by the archway for them to catch up, wanting to be polite.

“I see you three decided t’ call it an early day,” Baylee chirped when they were close enough. She then looked at Nori, offering him her usual friendly smile. “I’m surprised t’ see you back so soon, Master Nori!”

“I’m playing errand boy for Fili,” he told her with a chuckle, “though I will be staying a for a while again. I’ve also been given an assignment by Thorin.”

She nodded in understanding, though she was left wondering what sort of position he held that made him get assignments from the king. “Would you like the same room as before? Or, if you’d rather, we do have some single-occupant rooms.”

“I think I’ll take a single-occupant room this time around,” he answered. “Don’t have to hear Bofur’s snoring from across the hall this time.”

Bofur pouted. “Oi, it’s _Bifur_ who’s the snorer!” he protested, his hands on his hips. “I sleep as quiet as a lamb, I’ll have you know!”

The two women cracked up at his retort. “Oh, I’m sure you do, Bofur,” Baylee giggled, her brow rising. “You just _talk_ in your sleep instead.”

His cheeks turned a little red and he smiled innocently. “Only when I fall asleep at the dinin’ table!”

Will’s brow rose ever so slightly; a bit of color had come to his sister’s cheeks as well. And there was something about the way Bofur smiled at her that seemed almost…shy? “So, judging by Primrose’s presence here and that pretty new dress you’re wearin’, Eidel finished your clothes, hmm?”

“Aye, she did!” Primrose chirped. Like Will, she had noticed how both Baylee and Bofur had turned a bit pink, but she wouldn’t mention it—not yet, anyway. “They all fit her perfectly, too, so no need t’ wait around for any alterations. We even managed t’ get her some colors that _aren’t_ yellow, green, or brown, despite her current attire.”

“Well, now that’s a feat in and o’ itself,” Will snorted. He then blinked, realizing that neither he nor Baylee had introduced Primrose properly. “Ah, sorry for the rudeness. Masters Bofur, Bifur, an’ Nori, this is Primrose Lightfoot, one o’ Baylee and mine’s oldest friends.” As he spoke, Primrose gave a polite curtsy.

In unison, the three dwarves bowed and said, “At your service!”

“It’s nice t’ finally meet you,” Primrose smiled. “Baylee’s been tellin’ me about you lot.”

Bifur feigned a look of concern. “I hope she’s not told you any o’ the bad stuff.”

“Like how we nearly burnt the kitchen down,” Bofur said, also feigning solemnness.

“Or how we broke one o’ the best tables,” Bifur added.

“Or how we drank until we passed out in the common room,” Nori said with an affirmative nod.

Laughing, Baylee rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright—any more o’ that and you may have her convinced you’re not good patrons.” Shaking her head, she glanced at Primrose and Will to find them snickering at the dwarves’ antics. “Well, it’s a bit late for lunch an’ a bit early for dinner…why don’t we head inside an’ I’ll get you lads something to snack on?”

“Sounds good t’ me,” Bifur grinned.

“Ooh, I wonder if there’s any of your fruit bread left?” Primrose thought aloud. “It’s been a while since I’ve had some of that.”

Baylee smiled. “If there is any left, I’ll be sure t’ give you priority with it,” she told her as the group started to walk towards the door.

Entering the inn, they were greeted by a nearly empty common room; the elves had left a few days ago, leaving the inn nice and quiet for the time being. Looking over at the bar, Will saw Warren standing behind it, cleaning tankards. His father smiled and waved at them while Baylee and Primrose separated from the group, the latter going to her usual spot by the window and the former heading into the kitchen.

“You lot are back early,” he commented. “I take it the plastering went well, then?”

“Aye, Will’s friends had everything done in just a few hours,” Bifur replied with a smile. “We’ll definitely be hirin’ them when it comes time to do the last wall an’ the upstairs.”

“Well, they’ve plastered so many walls over the years, it’d be a surprise if they _weren’t_ fast at it,” Will chuckled. Rounding the bar, he went over to the guest book. “How long will you be stayin’ with us, Nori?”

“Ah, that I’m not too sure about, admittedly,” Nori answered. “Hm. Put me down for three weeks. If I need t’ stay longer, I’ll just give you more gold.” He looked around the common room, though he saw neither hide nor hair of his little brother. “I see Ori’s out an’ about on his own.”

Warren chuckled. “He was, but now he’s up on the third-floor terrace with a mug o’ cider and his sketchbook.

Nori shook his head, chuckling. “That definitely sounds like Ori.” He glanced over at Will as he saw him stand upright.

“Alright, I’ve got you written down for three weeks in room eight,” he said, putting the quill back in the inkwell. “I’ll have one o’ the lasses get it ready for you.”

“Will would do it himself, but he never makes beds,” Warren joked. “Can’t even make his own.”

His cheeks turning a bit pink, Will pouted. “I’ll have you know I know how t’ make a bed quite well, thank you very much! I just prefer t’ nest when I sleep and it’s hard t’ nest when your bed is made.”

Bofur laughed, his brow rising. “Ah, I have t’ agree with you on that. Making a bed-nest is so much easier when the blankets an’ sheet aren’t tucked in.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had a bunch o’ birds staying under my roof,” Warren laughed. He glanced over at the kitchen, seeing Baylee coming out with two trays of food. It was then he noticed that she wasn’t wearing the clothes she had left in that morning. “Oh! I see you’re wearin’ one of your new outfits, ‘Lee! Give us a spin so we can get a proper look!”

Bofur fully expected Baylee to set the trays down and then do a small spin like her father requested. Instead, however, she twirled around on one foot with the trays barely moving on her palms and her stride hardly being broken. As she spun, her skirts fanned out around her ankles and his head tilted ever so slightly; the brown and yellow of her dress combined with her freckled skin and her smile greatly reminded him of a sunflower.

“The prettiest sunflower I ever did see,” he murmured, completely unaware that both Will and Nori had heard him.

Will’s brow rose and he glanced over at Warren to see if he had heard what Bofur said. Finding that he hadn’t, he chuckled quietly to himself. ‘Is Bofur getting a crush on Baylee?’ he thought, watching as his sister put the trays down on the lads’ table. Stealing a glance down at Bofur, he could see that he, too, was watching Baylee and his head was still tilted. ‘With how hard he had been making her laugh the other day, they do have the potential to be an adorable match…And they certainly get along well enough.’

As he happened to look over at Nori, Nori met his gaze, a small grin on his lips. Subtly, he raised a hand and signed, _He seems fairly enamored, doesn’t he?_

With a grin on his lips, he nodded in agreement before looking over at Warren as his father nudged him.

“You lads go on ahead,” Nori told Bofur and Bifur. “I’m going t’ go see Ori, let him know I’ll be here for a while. Shouldn’t take me too long.” After getting clapped on the shoulder, he made his way towards the stairs.

Reaching the third floor, he found himself a bit surprised by how similar it looked to the second floor: There was a walkway leading from the stairs to the far end of the building with rooms lined up on one side while the other side was open to the floors below. Going over to the railing, he peeked over in time to see Baylee bringing some drinks over to Bifur and Bofur.

‘Bofur is definitely enamored by her,’ he thought, a small grin coming to his lips once more. ‘That’s good, though…If he’s getting a crush, it means Aulë’s giving him a second shot at love. Not many dwarrows get even _one_ chance at love.’ Shaking his head, he stepped away from the balustrade only to walk alongside it. He reached the end and turned right, following the path to a door that led out onto a covered terrace.

Once outside, he found his brother standing against the railing, his sketchbook in hand and his pencil moving along the page rather quickly. He waited a few minutes, wanting to wait for a moment when Ori paused in his work, but it never came. So, instead, he cleared his throat and, finally, his brother lifted his head.

“Hm?” Looking over his shoulder, Ori’s eyes widened and he let out a small curse. “N-Nori, what’re you doing back already?” he stammered, putting his pencil down and closing his sketchbook.

“A couple o’ reasons, actually. Firstly, I’m on an assignment from Thorin,” he told him with a chuckle. Walking over, he rested his arms on the rail and looked down over the city. “I’m also here t’ deliver a message from Fili—ah, bugger. I should have done that while I was downstairs.” He shrugged. “Oh well. I’ve got plenty o’ time.”

Ori’s brow rose and he found himself skeptical of his brother’s answer. “Fili asked _you_ to deliver a message here?” he questioned, his voice betraying the skepticism.

He nodded. “Aye. Like I said, I’m here on assignment from Thorin, so while I was at the palace, the lad asked me so he wouldn’t have to bother one of the couriers.” It was the truth, of course, though there was more to it than that—but he wasn’t about to tell that to his little brother.

“What kind o’ message does Fili need you t’ deliver to the Tankard?”

“A room reservation for those meetings in a few weeks.” He shrugged, turning around so that his back and elbows rested against the railing. “You’re rather inquisitive today, aren’t you?” He chuckled and reached over, tousling his hair.

“Not inquisitive. Just wary,” he replied, his nose and eyes scrunching up as he tried to bat Nori’s hand away. “I know you’re Thorin’s spymaster an’ all, but you have had your slipups over the last few years…I just don’t want you here because o’ them.”

A bit of guilt came to Nori’s stomach, though he pouted. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t done anything illegal in ages. Dubious? Aye, plenty o’ that due t’ the nature o’ my job. But never illegal. An’ if I was wanting to lay low, I wouldn’t stay here. The Braddocks have been good t’ us; I wouldn’t want t’ sully their reputation.”

Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Ori nodded and let out a small sigh. “Alright then. But if I find out you’ve done something—”

“Again, I wouldn’t be stayin’ at _this_ inn if I had done something.” He shook his head; Ori had every right to be suspicious, especially given his extra colorful past. “You worry too much, khînadad. I’m not that person anymore—you should know that.”

His brow rose. “Unless you’re drunk and around a gaggle of equally drunk, pretty human women…”

At that, Nori snorted. “Nothing illegal about having some fun in bed with a lass or three,” he grinned. Then, shaking his head, he looked over his shoulder and towards Erebor. “How’ve you been enjoying your stay here?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I’ve…really enjoyed it, actually,” he admitted. “It’s been strange, not having you or Dori around, but at the same time, it’s been really refreshin’. I can go wherever I like, do whatever I want t’ do…Most days, I help Miss Baylee take lunch t’ Bofur an’ Bifur. Oh, and those two are even commissioning me t’ help design their shop’s sign and a mural for the main room!”

His brows rose as he looked back at his little brother, a grin on his lips. “Is that so? Well, well, well…khînadad’s first real job!” Reaching over, he gently punched Ori’s shoulder. “Dori’s going t’ be proud when he hears about this.”

Ori’s cheeks turned bright pink, but he wore a shy smile as he put his sketchbook back in its holster. “It’s been fun,” he told him. “Miss Baylee’s even shown me where they keep the tea so I can help myself. Of-of course I make sure t’ pay them for it! I don’t just keep refilling without paying…”

Nori couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. “Khînadad, if there was just _one_ person in this world who would never steal, it’d be you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the somewhat late update; I lost track of time today. Also, thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter and wished me happy birthday! You all are so sweet~ <3

It felt nice, having the wind rushing through her hair.

Baylee wore a large grin as her horse galloped across the rocky plains. It had a been a few weeks since she last gotten to ride her mare, Buttercup, and the freedom that came with riding a horse was quite the refreshing change from her daily routine. Having a Rohirric woman for a mother, she had inherited the same love of riding as her mother. Will, too, had inherited the love, though he wasn’t able to join her that day thanks to work.

Slowing Buttercup down to a canter, then a trot, and finally to a complete stop, she looked out over the landscape. Eight years ago, Dale, Erebor, and the lands surrounding the two city-states could be described as little more than frozen, ruined wastelands. But now, the ground was covered in lush, green grass and large swathes of wildflowers. Patches of wild berry bushes were scattered throughout the area; come summer, she would be making plenty of pies with their bounties. Closer to the foot of the mountain, trees had begun to grow and, though she couldn’t see them from where she sat, she knew that farms were being cultivated along the southern foothills, the rich soil proving to be wonderful the crops.

It still had a long way to go, but the earth that had been ravage by Smaug was healing nicely.

“It’s so pretty now,” she sighed, a smile on her lips. Leaning over, she rubbed the side of Buttercup’s neck. “Just a few years ago, this was wasteland. An’ now…it’s so pretty.”

As if in agreement, Buttercup nickered before leaning her head down to nibble at some grass.

Turning her gaze skyward, Baylee looked at the position of the sun. It was halfway between noon and sunset, which earned a small sigh from her. “Should start heading back, I suppose,” she thought aloud. “Don’t want t’ leave auntie an’ Wenna all alone for the dinner rush.”

She then looked to the east and found the sky beginning to grow dark; not with the approaching night, but with deep grey storm clouds that promised thunder and lighting. This brought a smile back to her lips; she and Will _adored_ thunderstorms.

“He won’t be sneaking out to court Adela tonight,” she murmured with a chuckle.

Lightly tugging on the reins, she clicked her tongue and the mare started to walk. Soon, she was trotting, and, after holding that pace for a few minutes, she was back at a canter. They weren’t too far from the western gate—maybe twenty minutes, at most—so she wasn’t worried about tiring Buttercup out too badly. Once she was ready, Baylee urged her into a gallop and let out a laugh as the mare made no effort to protest.

‘I wish Will could have joined me today,’ she thought. ‘I miss racing against him—even if he won most of the time.’ Unlike her mare, who had been bred for endurance, Will’s gelding had been bred for speed and often outran Buttercup. Neither minded, of course. It was all in good fun. ‘Maybe Bofur and Bifur would be willing to give him a day off soon…With summer just a few months away, I’m going to be busy thanks to the summer influx, which won’t leave me much time for riding. I won’t have much free time at all, save for when the festivals take place.’

As they approached the western gate, Buttercup instinctively slowed her pace once more. The gentle thumping of her hooves on dirt turned to the sharp clopping of metal shoes on stone as she began to trot along the bridge. Only the northern gate of the city didn’t need a bridge in order to access it; Dale had been built upon a massive, rocky hill and its base was surrounded on most sides by a river.

“What’s on the menu for tonight at the Tankard?” one of the guards called out as the two passed under the archway.

“Your choice o’ pork stew or beef potpie!” she called back. “An’ there’s apple-cinnamon crumbles for dessert!”

“I know where I’m goin’ for dinner tonight!”

She laughed, her brow rising somewhat. ‘Well, at least we can expect one person aside from the lads for dinner,’ she thought as Buttercup began to ascend the first of many slopes on their way back to the Full Tankard.

It was on the third of these slopes that Baylee saw Ori making his way from a side street and onto main street. Slowing Buttercup down to a walk, she guided the mare towards him.

Before she could say anything, though, Ori looked up when he heard the approaching hooves. At first, he was a bit surprised to see Baylee atop the horse—given her small stature, he had expected her to ride a pony like—but after the initial shock passed, he smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you out an’ about, Miss Baylee.”

“I managed t’ sneak away for a little while,” she chuckled. “Are you headin’ back t’ the inn?”

He nodded. “I saw those storm clouds rolling in and thought it’d be best to get back before they reach the city,” he told her.

She looked eastwards, seeing that the clouds had reached Erebor by now. “Oh, it’s a fast storm,” she stated, a cheeky grin on her lips. Turning her gaze back down to Ori, she tilted her head. “Would you like a ride back t’ the inn? I wouldn’t want you or your sketchbook gettin’ soaked through.”

His cheeks turned a bit pink, but he nodded. “A ride would be most appreciated, Miss Baylee.” When she leaned over and grabbed his hand to pull him up, he found himself taken by surprise once more, this time by her strength; dwarves were not the lightest of folk and yet she didn’t seem to strain much as she hoisted him up. He figured it was because she was used to carrying heavy platters all day.

“So, where did you go explorin’ today?” she asked once he was situated behind her.

“The graveyard,” he told her. “I know it’s a strange place to explore, but…well, it’s a peaceful spot and Dale’s graveyard is very pretty, what with all its statues and elegant tombs.”

Her brow rose slightly; she would have never expected someone to find a graveyard to be peaceful. “Is that so?” she replied with a small laugh. “Well, t’ each their own, I suppose. Personally, I’m unnerved by graveyards…they’re too quiet.”

He nodded in understanding. “They are _very_ quiet,” he agreed. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons why I like them, though. It’s so quiet and so tucked away from the hustle an’ bustle of the city, despite being so close to it. There were all sorts of little birds flying about the place and there were wildflowers everywhere…”

Chuckling quietly, he rubbed the side of his neck. “There was one statue that really caught my eye. It was a warrior woman who was standing proud, but with a sorrowful smile. I don’t often see the women of any race posed in such a way; it was really quite gorgeous, especially with the way ivy was starting to climb up the base.” He pulled his sketchbook out and, opening it to the page, held it out in front of Baylee so she could see.

Looking down at the page, she saw a woman standing with one foot placed upon a rock and her hand resting upon her sword, which was stuck down into the earth while her other hand hung at her side, a shield strapped to her forearm. Her armor was different from that of Dale’s military, being made of what looked like scale-mail and strips of leather. She wore no helmet, allowing the world see the sad smile on her lips as she gazed south, towards her homeland.

Baylee felt a lump form in her throat and her eyes stung for a moment. Swallowing hard, she looked back to the rode to guide Buttercup down the correct road.

“There was a plaque, too, but I couldn’t read what it said,” Ori continued, unaware of the emotions the statue had brought her. “It must’ve been in the old tongue of Dale.”

“It’s Rohirric, actually,” she corrected. “It says, ‘Ég hef farið í sölur forfeðra minna, þar sem mér hefur verið fagnað með opnum örmum og nefnd systir af þeim sem hafa fallið fyrir mér.” The words left her mouth easily, as if she had repeated them a thousand times; little did Ori know, she had. “Translated t’ Weston, it means, ‘I have gone to the halls o’ my foremothers, where I have been welcomed with open arms and named sister by those who have fallen before me’.”

He blinked, finding it a bit odd for her to have memorized an inscription on a grave of all things. “You have it memorized?”

“Aye. It’s part o’ the adage used by the shieldmaidens of Rohan before battle,” she explained. As she glanced over his shoulder at him, Ori could see sadness in her eyes. “That’s my mother’s grave.”

His eyes widened and he felt some color drain from his skin. As he looked back down at the page, it was only then he realized how similar the statue’s face was to hers. “I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know, M-Miss Baylee,” he stammered. “I-If you want, I can t-tear it out or something?”

Her brow rose and she let out a small laugh. “Why in Middle Earth would I want you t’ destroy it?” she questioned. “You did a beautiful job on that drawing; no doubt you spent hours workin’ on it.”

“A-are you sure?” he asked, sounding uncertain. “I know how sacred graves can be t’ people…I don’t want t’ be doing anything accidentally disrespectful.”

A reassuring smile came to her lips as she looked back at him once again. “If anythin’, my mum would be _thrilled_ t’ see that someone thought her tomb beautiful enough t’ want t’ draw it.” She reached back and patted his knee; she was glad she had managed to resist crying, but she had the feeling she’d be visited by one of her nightmares that night. “It really is lovely, Ori. You’re such a good artist; Bofur an’ Bifur’s shop is going t’ look amazin’ after you get through with it!”

The combination of her smile and her tone made him feel more at ease. “I hope so…It’s been hard, trying to settle on a single idea when there are so many different ones runnin’ through my head.” He shook his head, closing the book so he could put it away once more. “Luckily, they’ve settled on a mural design. But their sign is goin’ to take a bit longer to do…I think I already have four different versions drawn out.”

“Four?” Ori couldn’t see it, but her eyes had widened. “An’ you’re still coming up with more?”

“Well, they gave me a list o’ things they’d like t’ see in the sign,” he said, “so, I’ve been tryin’ to incorporate them in different ways. Or I’ll leave some o’ the lesser ones out while keeping the important ones…I know I don’t have _too_ many more designs left t’ sketch out. Another four at the most.” Peering around her, he could see that they weren’t too far from the inn now.

“An’ I take it they’ll have Will carve out the sign?”

“As far as I know, that’s the plan.”

She chuckled. “Then they’ll have the best sign in town. With your art skills an’ Will’s carvin’ skills…” She shivered slightly as a cold wind blew down the street. “I hope they call it quits early—I don’t like the idea o’ them having to come back to the Tankard in the midst o’ a storm, even if Will would be more than happy to.”

His brow rose. “Will…likes storms?”

“We both do; always have. When we were younger, we used t’ run out into the street so we could get a better look at the lightning and feel the thunder.” She smiled at the memory. “We eventually learned that it was best to stay inside, though. We didn’t want t’ get fried by lightning.”

“That’s understandable.” Glancing up at the clouds, he frowned. “I can’t ever look at storms the same way after we passed through the Misty Mountains.”

“Oh? What happened?”

He rubbed the side of his neck. “Well…as we were travelin’ through the mountain pass, a storm rolled in. An’ in the middle of the storm, we saw giants having a thunder battle.”

“…Giants?” she repeated. “There are _giants_ in the Misty Mountains?”

“I’m not sure if they’re still alive, given how intense that battle was, but aye, there were at least three o’ them.” When she brought the mare to a halt in the courtyard, he let her dismount first before getting a bit of help dismounting himself. “They looked like they were a part of the mountain at first. But then they started t’ move and throw absolutely enormous chunks o’ rock at one another.”

Baylee tilted her head slightly, her eyes wide with wonder. “That…sounds like it was both amazing an’ terrifying t’ see.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Amazingly terrifying more like it.”

Excusing herself, Baylee moved to lead Buttercup into the stables while Ori headed inside the inn. “Peter, I’m back,” she called, guiding the mare towards her stall.

Poking his head out from one of the larger stalls, Peter smiled. “I was wondering if you’d get back here before the storm or not,” he said. Stepping out of the stall, she saw that he was holding a broom. “To be honest, knowing you, I was thinkin’ you’d be stayin’ out there until the storm passed just so you could see some lightnin’ up close.”

Despite rolling her eyes, there was a smile on her lips. “I don’t do that anymore,” she reminded him with a laugh. “The last thing I want is t’ be out in the open like that during a thunderstorm.” She started to remove Buttercup’s saddle while Peter started on her bridle. “I take it things have been quiet around here?”

“Ah, somewhat. Bard sent us a message, requesting that nine stalls be readied,” he answered. “That has me a bit confused, seein’ as how the meetings don’t take place until next month.”

Baylee’s brow rose. “Really? That’s…odd. I’ll have t’ ask papa why that is.” She wondered if, perhaps, one of the royal mares had gone into season and Bard needed to keep the stallions away from her. Getting the saddle off Buttercup, she carried it past Peter and towards the storage area.

“Whatever the reason, he couldn’t have had better timing. We got a fresh shipment o’ hay in and our oat supply was topped off when Will came back.” He tossed the bridle to her so she could put it away as well. “At the same time, though, he couldn’t have had worse timing thanks t’ this storm coming in.”

She nodded in agreement. “Let’s hope those horses aren’t skittish. We wouldn’t want any o’ them getting injured.” Having to do a small hop, she put the bridle on a hook.

“Aye. At least I don’t have t’ worry much about your family’s horses. They’re used t’ loud noises.” He grabbed a brush and started to run it along Buttercup’s neck. “You go on ahead an’ head inside. I’ve got her from here.”

“Thanks, Peter,” she smiled. “Hope all goes well for you tonight.” Leaving the stables, she crossed the courtyard and headed into the inn. She was greeted by warm air scented with sage, cinnamon, and apples and the sight of the lads and Will sitting at their table.

“There she is,” Will grinned. “We were wonderin’ when you’d be back.”

A smile came to her lips. “An’ I was hopin’ you three would make it back before the bad weather set in.” She walked over to their table.

“Aye, we came back about an hour ago,” Bifur chuckled. “Not much we can do at the shop while we wait for supplies t’ come in. Well, except for your brother. He’s been workin’ all over the place in there.”

Will grinned cheekily. “They’ve a lot o’ loose windows and such. But after tonight’s rain, we’ll find out if we need t’ have the roof replaced or not.”

At that, Bofur groaned. “We probably will, especially since we tore that roof deck down,” he said. “I know I saw at _least_ a couple o’ tiles fall off when we brought it down.”

“If you do end up needin’ t’ replace parts of the roof, at least you won’t have t’ be the ones doin’ it,” Baylee chuckled. “I know I wouldn’t like t’ be on a roof that high up…”

“’Lee…We used t’ climb onto the roofs o’ Laketown and run around,” her brother reminded her, his brow rising.

“Aye, but if we fell off in Laketown, we’d fall into a lake— _not_ onto solid rock.” It was her turn to wear the cheeky grin as Will turned a bit red. “Anyway, let me go get changed an’ then I’ll be back out t’ bring you some food an’ refill these tankards o’ yours, alright, lads?”

“Take your time, lass,” Nori told her. “Will just refilled them for us.”

Smiling, she left their table and made her way into the family’s private quarters. She used a key that hung around her neck to open the door, tucking it away again as she closed and locked the door. It didn’t surprise her when she saw no one in the living room, so she continued down the hall and took a right. Going to the end of the hall, she entered the door on her left and found herself in her room.

“First thing’s first,” she murmured, going over to a shelf. From it, she pulled down a rather large and heavy book. Carrying it over to her bed, she carefully opened it and, with even more care, turned the pages and seeing the dozens upon dozens of flowers that she had pressed over the years. Once she reached a blank page, she removed a pouch from her belt and opened it. She dumped its contents—a handful of wildflowers—onto the book and began arranging them around the page.

In the middle of arranging the flowers, there was a knock on her door. “Baylee? Can I come in?” came Will’s voice.

“Aye,” she called back, a bit surprised that he wasn’t with the dwarves. Hearing the door open, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see her brother step in.

“I thought you were going t’ change?” he questioned, his brow rising.

“I am—after I finish pressing these.”

Peering over her shoulder, he grinned as he saw the flowers. “I knew there was an ulterior motive behind you goin’ out for a ride today.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Actually, I just happened across these when I was lettin’ Buttercup have a break.” Turning her attention back to the book, she double checked the placement of the flowers before carefully closing the book. “There. Now, what did you need?” Standing upright, she took the book over to her dresser and laid it down flat.

Will watched as she proceeded to stack some heavy items atop it. “I have a present for you.”

Her brow rose. “A present? What for?” Turning around, she was just in time to see him pull a small, wooden box from his pocket.

“Because I felt bad,” he told her, holding it out to her.

Giving her brother a wary look, she took the box from him. As she opened, her eyes widened and a small gasp left her mouth; he had gotten her a new ear cuff. This one was made of thicker wire that had been treated in such a way that it looked green. Like her old cuff, it was bent into the shapes of leaves and flowers. For the flower petals, the wire had thinned out slightly and held onto sheets of pounded gold, making the flowers solid.

“It’s so pretty!” she gawked, carefully taking it from the box. After looking it over it a moment longer, she glanced up at her brother. “You know, you didn’t have t’ get me a new one, Will.”

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. Grabbing her comb, he turned her around and started to work the knots out of her hair. “I know how self-conscious you are about your ear an’ the fact that I was the reason you had t’ tell the lads about it made me feel bad.”

A small pout came to her lips. “It wasn’t your fault. That cuff was old an’ brittle. I should have gotten a new one much sooner.”

“Doesn’t matter t’ me. I was the one who broke it, so it was my fault.” He was gentle as he worked the teeth of the comb through her hair. “Who knows? Maybe now that you’ll have a way t’ hide your ear again, your nightmares will stop.”

“I doubt that,” she sighed. “They’ll go away on their own, though. Hopefully it won’t take as long as before.” She carefully ran her fingers along the metal vines, a small smile on her lips. “Where did you even get this? Ear cuffs like this aren’t exactly common pieces o’ jewelry…”

“I had Ori design it an’ then I scuttled off t’ Erebor a few days ago. With permission from my bosses o’ course.” Her hair now knot-free, he tucked the back of the comb between his teeth and started to section her hair.

She quietly laughed. “Well…Thank you. An’ I’ll have to thank Ori, too. He’s such a wonderful little artist.”

“Aye, he ith,” he agreed, his words a bit muddled thanks to the comb. “I’m almoth temthed t’ have da’ hire him t’ paint the common room.”

“Oh, I think that would be a lovely idea—it’s been needin’ a new coat o’ paint anyway.” She felt him starting to work the sections of her hair over and under once another. “By the way…do you know anythin’ about Bard requesting nine stalls in the stables t’ be readied?”

His brow rose. “What? I don’t know anyfing about that.”

“Hm. Guess we’ll have t’ ask da’ about it, then.”

“Ask me about what?”

The siblings looked over their shoulders only to find Warren standing in the doorway.

“Hi, da’,” Baylee chirped. “Why did Bard ask for nine stable stalls t’ be readied?”

He chuckled, his brow rising. “Oh, straight t’ the point for once, I see,” he teased. “We’re going to be housin’ some rangers for the next few months,” he explained.

Will frowned. “Wangers…? But Dale doesn’t have wangers.”

“Exactly.” Stepping fully into the room, he crossed his arms and walked over to his children. Pulling the comb from his son’s mouth, he tossed it onto Baylee’s dresser. “They’re a gift from the queen o’ Dorwinion as part of the renewed peace and trading treaties. The number o’ soldiers that we have can hardly be called a militia, let alone an army, an’ absolutely none of them are skilled in stealth, nor do they do patrols of the surrounding areas.”

Baylee’s head tilted ever so slightly. “Did she send them because o’ the raiders that have been attacking?”

At that, Warren frowned. “How did you hear about those? Did you tell her ‘bout them, Will?”

“No, he didn’t. Bard told me,” she explained. “I ran into him the other day an’ he told me how he was going t’ ask you about holding the meetings with Prince Fili here. He also mentioned that they were going to be about the raiders who’ve been attacking.”

“Hand me that ribbon please, da’,” Will said, pointing at one of the lengths of ribbon on Baylee’s dresser. “I wasn’t going to tell ‘Lee about the raiders anyway, since I hadn’t run into any. I didn’t want to get her needlessly worried when we all made it home nice and safe.” He thanked his father as he took the ribbon from him and used it to tie off the four-strand braid before plucking the ear cuff from his sister’s hands. Carefully, he fitted it around her ear, a small grin coming to his lips when, as he gently pinched the top and bottom, he found that it fit perfectly. “Aha! Perfect fit!”

“Good job with that, lad,” Warren chuckled, his brow rising as he saw the cuff on his daughter’s ear. “That looks very pretty on you, love.”

“Thanks, papa,” she smiled, her cheeks a bit pink. “Did you need somethin’, by the way?” She went to the corner of the room, standing in front of her mirror so she could look at her ear. She thought the cuff looked very pretty, though part of her wondered if, perhaps, it was _too_ pretty for her.

He blinked, having almost entirely forgotten that he needed to speak with them. “Ah, yes—about those rangers. They’ll be stayin’ here for a few months, since the barracks…well, they’re not exactly in the best o’ shape just yet. They arrived this morning, so Bard will be bringing them over soon. I’m not quite sure what their culture is like, so do try t’ keep an open mind if they do anything out of the ordinary.”

“I know about their culture a little bit,” Will stated, “so if there are any problems, I’ll be able t’ help—if I’m around at the time, that is.”

Warren nodded in understanding. “Good, good…I’ve never been that far east, so I’m afraid I’m wholly ignorant. If they were dwarves, however…”

“Then you _and_ Baylee would be experts,” Will joked.

Baylee snorted. “No, _papa_ would be the expert. I don’t know much about them, aside from their methods of tossing food about an’ that playing with their hair is a sign o’ flirtation. Oh, and that they revere scars an’ tattoos.”

Warren’s brow rose in amusement. “An’ just how did you find that out?”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink again. “Bofur an’ I were talking about how Will has a rough time finding work because o’ his scars,” she admitted, “an’ he told me that he’d have no trouble finding work with dwarves, since they take pride in their scars.”

“Bifur was tellin’ me the same thing, actually,” Will chuckled. “He even said that, if I wanted to have my scar decorated, he knew a dwarf who was _excellent_ when it came t’ tattooing.”

“As much as I love dwarven culture, I’m not so sure I’m ready for my son t’ be tattooed like them,” Warren said, his voice a bit bland. “Maybe if it were in a hidden spot, but knowin’ dwarves, they’d want t’ put it all over your scar.” Shaking his head, he let out a small sigh. “Well, now that I’ve warned you about our guests, I should get back out front. Don’t want them t’ arrive and find it empty up there.”

“An’ I should let Baylee get changed,” Will stated, nodding in agreement. “That’s why she came back here originally.”

Shrugging, she smiled up at them. “I just need t’ change into a different overdress is all. It won’t take me long.”

The two men nodded and moved to take their leave. Once Will had shut the door behind him, Baylee took off her belt and overdress. Giving the latter a good shake, she carefully folded it up and tucked it away in one of her drawers.

‘Knowing papa, he’ll want me to wear one of my newer overdresses so the new customers won’t think he’s a miser,’ she thought, opening a different drawer. A quiet chuckle left her mouth and she shook her head. ‘If he was a miser, the inn wouldn’t be in such good condition nor our food and drink so good…Hm. I’ve got brown trousers and a cream-colored shirt on now…Maybe I should try this pink tunic?’

Pulling out the garment, she unfolded it and held it in front of herself. ‘Hm…It’s such a light color, I don’t want it to stain if I spill anything on it…’ Then, shrugging, she pulled it over her head. “I’ll just wear my apron over it,” she thought aloud. She grabbed a different, wider belt and, as she fastened it around her waist, she left her room.

When she walked out into the common room, she found Bofur and Nori arm wrestling while Bifur and Ori cheered them on. Her brow rising, she shook her head and quietly laughed before ducking into the kitchen. She grabbed her apron and, after putting her head through the top, she tied it into place. Looking around, she saw only Gawen in the kitchen at the moment; Galiene must have been taking a small break.

“What sorts o’ food do we have ready that would be good for snacking?” she asked, going over to the wash basin. Pulling the wooden ladle out of the fresh water bucket, she wetted her hands before lathering them up with a bar of soap.

Gawen glanced over at her as he peeled some potatoes. “We’ve got some fruit bread left, along with some hand pies, some rolls, cheese, meat…I’d say we have fresh vegetables, but my aunt’s goin’ to be using them in dinner tonight. Did you hear ‘bout the rangers?”

She nodded, rinsing her hands off. “Aye, da’ told me and Will about them just a few minutes ago.” Grabbing a bowl, she went to fill it with rolls. “Are auntie an’ Wenna getting the rooms ready for them?”

“Aye. They should be done soon, though. Do you want me to slice up some ham for the lads…?”

Setting the bowl on a platter, she then grabbed a plate. “No thanks, I got it,” she replied. Opening the knife drawer, she found one of their sharpest cutting knives and went over to the ham sitting on the counter by Gawen. “Thanks for the offer though.” She smiled up at him before looking at the meat. “How’re you liking it here, by the way? I know I asked you a while ago, but minds can change.”

He chuckled, tossing a peel into the waste bucket. “I’m still enjoyin’ it,” he answered. “My cooking’s already improved threefold and my knife skills have improved tenfold…An’ I get to make sure my aunt doesn’t overwork herself.”

“Aye, that’s always a good thing,” she agreed. “My auntie does her best to keep up on the busiest nights, but there’s only so much she can do before her hip starts acting up.”

He nodded in understanding. “Will your da’ be hiring any extra hands come summer?”

“Oh, most certainly.” Once she had enough ham sliced up, she cut the piece in half before laying them on the plate. “We usually get three extra hostesses an’ two extra cooks. This year, we might only get one, though, since you’re here.” Wiping off the knife, she put it back in the drawer and instead brought out a cheese knife.

“Makes sense. An inn this big needs a lot o’ help when there are a lot o’ customers.”

“Aye, it does,” she chuckled. Taking the plate and knife over to the platter, she then went into the pantry. “Which is why it’s nice during the winter—it’s so much quieter, it gives us time to rest and prepare for spring an’ summer!” She came out with a block of cheese, which soon joined the platter of snack food.

Lifting it up on her palm, she carried it out to the lads, where it was now Bifur versus Nori. “Sorry that took a bit, lads. Who won the last match?”

Bofur plucked a roll from the bowl as she set it down on the table. “I lost, but only just,” he told her. “Nori has the advantage o’ not working all day like me an’ Bifur did.”

Bifur snorted. “If by working, you mean moving a pile o’ wood from one side o’ the kitchen to the other, then aye, I suppose you were workin’.” He almost had the back of Nori’s hand touching the table.

“Oi, it was a lot o’ wood to move!” Bofur pouted, his cheeks turning a bit red as he was called out. He then looked up at Baylee with the full intention of thanking her for the snack food, but instead, he caught sight of the cuff on her ear and smiled. “Aha! I see your brother gave you the cuff!”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink, but she smiled. “Aye, he did, that big lug.” She then looked at Ori. “An’ I have you t’ thank for it, too, Ori. You came up with a gorgeous design for it.”

He smiled shyly. “I’m glad you like it, Miss Baylee,” he said. “I’ve never came up with a design for jewelry before, so I was hopin’ it would translate well t’ the real thing.”

“Well, I think it turned out—” She jumped as there was a thud followed by Bifur letting out a victorious cry. Rolling her eyes, she laughed as Bofur and Ori joined in with the little victory celebration.

“Ah, you just got lucky is all!” Nori snorted, his brow rising. “If I hadn’t gone against Bofur first, I would have beat you _easily_.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Bifur grinned, feeling quite chuffed with himself. “Too bad the others aren’t here with us—I’d have more blokes to go against.”

“Would you want t’ try to go against a human?” They looked over in time to see Warren and Will coming in from outside, with the former having been the one to speak. “I know I probably won’t stand a chance, but it’s been a long while since I’ve had a bit o’ a challenge.”

The grin remained on Bifur’s lips. “If you’re willin’, then so am I,” he said.

“Before you lads get carried away, mind letting me know what you all were drinkin’?” Baylee asked with a chuckle. She was in the process of gathering up their nearly-empty mugs.

“Ale,” replied Nori and Bifur.

“Beer,” came Bofur and Ori’s answers.

“Could you get me an ale, too, ‘Lee?” Will asked. “I want t’ see how badly da’ loses.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but smiled. “Aye, I will.” As Warren sat down across from Bifur, she plucked up the tray and carried it across the room.

It was as she was in the middle of filling Nori’s tankard that the door to the inn opened. Looking over, she watched as Bard stepped in, followed by nine people, all of them in nearly-matching uniforms. It was also at that moment that another victorious cry arose from the lads’ table; though he had lost, Warren had put up a good fight and even got Bifur’s arm more than halfway down.

“It seems we’ve arrived at a bit o’ an exciting time,” Bard chuckled.

Warren grinned apologetically at the group of newcomers. “Just a wee bit, but you know how us blokes get when it comes t’ arm wrestling.” Standing up, he headed over to give them a proper greeting.

Setting Nori’s tankard down on the tray, Baylee grabbed Bofur’s mug. A bit of movement above her caught her attention, however, and she glanced up to find Wenna and Demelza leaning over the second-floor railing. Wenna’s eyes were wide in wonder and Baylee knew exactly why: As she looked back at the rangers, she realized that they were all _very_ attractive.

‘Now that’s not something you see every day,’ she thought, finally moving to fill Bofur’s mug. ‘I’m sure part of it is knowing that they’re from Dorwinion, though.’ Glancing over, she saw that three of their number appeared to be female while the rest were male. They were all also quite tall, save for two: A woman with deep, olive skin and straight, brunette hair and a man with golden skin and curly, auburn hair. The shorter man seemed to be the leader of the group, as he was the one speaking with both Bard and her father.

Once Bofur’s mug was full, she returned it to the tray and carried it back over to the table. The lads had quieted down, their interests piqued by the newcomers and their mouths filled with bread, meat, and cheese.

“These folk must be pretty important if Bard’s the one showin’ them to the place,” Ori quietly commented.

“They were sent by Dorwinion,” Will answered, his voice also soft. “They’re a group of rangers—a gift sent by the queen, since we don’t really have rangers o’ our own just yet.”

“They’ll be stayin’ here for a few months,” Baylee added, setting the mugs down next to their owners. She put Will’s down last and he gave her a nod of thanks. “Do you lads need anything else? If you’d like, I could slice up some more ham.”

Ori glanced up, having been reaching for the last piece of ham. “…That would be wonderful, actually,” he replied sheepishly.

Smiling, she plucked up the plate and carried it into the kitchen, where she found Galiene standing at the counter next to Gawen. Both had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they mixed together large batches of pie dough.

“Be a little easy on the water,” Galiene was telling her nephew. “It’s going to be rainin’ soon, so you won’t need as much as you think.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, confused.

“Because the air is wetter,” Baylee answered, retrieving the same knife she had used earlier. “The rangers have arrived, by the way.” She started to carefully carve slices from the ham once again.

“Have they? Good thing we’re startin’ dinner a bit early then,” Galiene said, blowing a stray lock of hair from her face. Her brow then rose as she glanced over at Baylee. “I take it the lads were feelin’ a bit peckish?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Aye, they were. They’re still workin’ on the rolls and the cheese, but the ham they devoured right away.” Part of her wondered if, perhaps, she should preemptively get some snacks ready for the rangers. ‘No, no—They’ve spent the day at Bard’s hall. I’m sure Ethel kept them well fed.’

“If you think o’ it, lass, ask the lads what they’ll be wantin’ for dinner,” Gawen told her. “That way, if any of them want the pot pie, we can make half a dozen extra.” He looked over at her, a teasing smile on his lips. His brow then rose; rain had begun pounding against the windows.

She snorted, glancing at the window as there was a flash of light. “I’ll be sure t’ ask,” she replied, cutting the slices of ham in half once more. She had sliced double the amount as before, hoping it would be enough to tide the lads over until dinner. Plating the meat, she wiped the knife off again and was about to put it away when Galiene instructed her to leave it out.

“We’ll need it soon enough anyway,” she explained.

Nodding, Baylee plucked up the plate and headed out of the kitchen. She was in time to see Demelza and Wenna coming down the staircase, the latter struggling with trying to not stare in awe at the rangers. Shaking her head, Baylee quietly laughed to herself.

“Here you go, lads,” she said, setting the plate down on the table. “Galiene and Gawen were wanting to know—”

A loud boom of thunder interrupted her, bringing matching grins to her and Will’s faces. They did their best to restrain their joy at the storm’s arrival, however, knowing that not everyone appreciated thunderstorms like they did.

“This is goin’ to be a mighty loud storm from the sounds o’ it,” Nori said with a small frown. “Good thing we’re not out in it.”

“Aye, it’s always better t’ watch a storm from somewhere inside rather than bein’ out in it,” Bofur agreed with a small laugh. As he spoke, he was tamping some tobacco down into the bowl of his pipe. “An’ thank you for the extra ham, Miss Baylee.”

“It’s no trouble,” she smiled. Being that she stood beside him, she caught a whiff of his tobacco; she was more than a little surprised to find it cherry scented. “As I was sayin’ before the thunder interrupted, Galiene an’ Gawen were wonderin’ which o’ you would be having beef potpie and which o’ you would be having pork stew for dinner tonight?”

“I think I’ll be havin’ the stew,” Bifur replied. “Stormy nights just call for stew.”

Nori and Ori nodded in agreement. “Aye, I’ll have the stew, too,” they chorused.

“Potpie for me, please,” Bofur answered with a small grin. “As much as I like pork, I can’t resist a good potpie.”

“I’ll have the potpie, too,” Will told her, a cheeky grin on his lips.

Her brow rose in amusement. “O’ course you are—you don’t like pork stew!” she chuckled.

“Baylee, Will! Over here!” Warren called.

Excusing themselves, the siblings went over to their father, Bard, and the rangers. Demelza and Wenna were already standing there, Wenna’s cheeks still pink. Drawing closer to the rangers, Baylee saw that their leader was even shorter than she originally thought—he was less than a foot taller than her.

“An’ these two are my children,” Warren introduced as the siblings stopped alongside him. He clapped a hand on Baylee’s shoulder. “This here is Baylee, my eldest an’ one of our hostesses.”

She gave them a small curtsy, a friendly smile on her lips. “At your service.”

Warren’s hand then moved to Will’s shoulder. “An’ this is Will, my youngest an’ a sometimes-host for the inn.”

Also wearing a welcoming smile, Will gave a half bow. “At your service.”

“I’m sure your father’s already told you, but these rangers have been sent by the queen o’ Dorwinion,” Bard explained, “an’ since our barracks aren’t in the best o’ shape still, they’ll be stayin’ here for the next few months. Rán here is their leader,” he motioned at the shorter man, who gave an acknowledging nod. There was a flash of light, but no sound followed it. “This is his sister, Ashailyn,” he motioned to a tall woman with the same golden skin and auburn hair as Rán. “His second in command, Nakara—” a man with slightly paler skin than the first two and brunette hair, “—Hunil—” a man with pale skin and short-cropped blonde hair, “—Kreine—” a tall woman with dark skin and short, coiled hair, “—her brother, Seth—” a dark skin man who stood a few inches shorter than his sister and had the same short, coiled hair, “—Aizik—” a pale half-elf with gingery hair, “—Fifika—” the shorter woman, “—and Girish,” an olive-skinned man with black hair.

“I hope your stay here is a comfortable one,” Warren then said with a smile. “If ever you need anythin’, don’t hesitate t’ ask one o’ us. We’ll do our best t’ help.”

Before anyone could reply, thunder finally rumbled outside; it was a bit distant yet, but still made the floor tremble slightly. Some of the rangers looked out of the windows, their brows raised.

“I’m sure our stay will be a most pleasant one, Lord Braddock,” Rán said once he was certain he wouldn’t be interrupted by the storm. “And again, I thank you for your hospitality in allowing us to stay here for such an extensive amount of time. It is most appreciated.”

Bard chuckled. “Believe me when I say there have been others who have stayed longer,” he told him. He then looked up at Warren. “From the sound o’ the weather, it’s looking like me and the children will have t’ stay the night, too.”

Both Baylee and Will perked at this. “You brought Sigrid an’ Bain with you?” the latter asked. “Where are they?”

As if on cue, childish giggling erupted from the kitchen.

“They _were_ out in the stables with Peter,” Bard chuckled, his brow rising. “I’m glad to hear that they made it back inside safely, though.” Shaking his head, he let out a content sigh; he always enjoyed it when he could take a small break from being king.

“An’ it sounds like they’re in good spirits,” Baylee grinned. She then turned to the rangers. “Can I get any o’ you something to drink? We’ve tea, ale, beer, mead, cider, an’ a handful of fruit juices on tap.”

Rán turned slightly, looking at his companions. They quietly deliberated for a moment before he turned back to face her. “Tea would be most appreciated, Lady Braddock,” he said. “Any kind would do.”

Nodding, Baylee moved to head to the kitchen.

“While she gets that ready, Wenna an’ me will show you t’ the rooms,” she heard Demelza say. “If you’ll just follow us up the stairs…”

As she walked into the kitchen, Baylee was greeted by the sight of a young girl and boy, both of whom had the same thick, dark hair as Bard. They each held a half-eaten piece of fruit bread, large grins on their faces as they nibbled away at it.

“I see Galiene’s spoilin’ the two o’ you already,” she chuckled.

Their eyes widened and they looked over at her in surprise. “Auntie!” they cried in unison. They rushed over to her, happily clinging onto her. As they did so, Baylee saw that the top of Bain’s head _almost_ reached her chin.

“Oi, when did this happen?” she laughed, hugging them in return. “Bain’s nigh as tall as me now! That’s not very fair—you’re supposed t’ stay tiny your whole lives!”

“We’ve-we’ve been eatin’ our veggies, we ‘ave!” Sigrid giggled. Baylee was happy to see that she was still a good head and a half shorter than her.

“ _I_ have,” Bain countered. “Sigrid not so much. She feeds a lot o’ them to the dogs, which is why she’s still short.” A cheeky smile came to his lips as Baylee tousled his hair.

Galiene came over, wagging a playfully scolding finger at Sigrid. “You should be eatin’ your vegetables, young lady. A princess such as yourself needs as many veggies as she can get if she wants t’ grow up t’ be tall an’ fair.”

“Or at least taller than auntie,” Bain joked. He let out a shriek of laughter as Baylee suddenly lifted him up and over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“At least you’re still light enough I can do this with you!” she grinned victoriously. She then looked at Galiene. “Can you put some o’ the kettles on, by the way? The rangers requested a spot o’ tea.”

Nodding, Galiene moved to grab two of their four kettles so she could top off their water supply. “How many are there again?”

“Nine.” She then set Bain down and made a shooing motion at the two. “I’ve got a bit o’ work to do, so why don’t you two run off an’ go see Uncle Will an’ Grandpa, eh?”

Giggling mischievously, the prince and princess hurried out of the kitchen. As they ran across the common room, they ran right for Warren and Will. “Uncle! Grandpa!” they called.

“There’s my wee tykes!” Warren grinned, crouching down and holding out his arms. He burst out laughing when they launched themselves at him. Easily catching them, he gave them a big, bear-style hug.

“I don’t think they’re wee tykes anymore, da’,” Will snorted, his brow raised. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Warren stand up, the two sitting on his forearms as he held them. “They’re almost as tall as their Auntie Baylee by the looks o’ it!”

Bard laughed. “They’ve still got a ways t’ go before they get taller than her—something I’m sure she’s happy to see.”

“She doesn’t think it’s fair Bain’s as tall as he is already,” giggled Sigrid. “He reaches her chin now!”

Warren snickered. “Doesn’t surprise me! I can already tell the lad’s goin’ to be taking after his father in terms o’ height!” With some reluctance, he passed the two off to Will so he could get a proper greeting hug in.

“But he won’t ever be as tall as you an’ Uncle Will,” Sigrid giggled. “Even if—even if he does keep eatin’ his veggies!”

“Well, you know, your auntie ate her veggies an’ she’s still smaller than an acorn,” Will grinned. “You two want t’ know the _real_ secret t’ gettin’ good and tall?”

“Yes! Yes!”

He teasingly turned away from Bard and Warren. In a loud whisper, he told them, “Eatin’ as many cookies an’ fruit pies as you can steal from the kitchen!”

“Will!” Bard laughed, his brow rising. “They steal enough sweets from the kitchens as is!”

Looking over his shoulder at him, Will grinned cheekily. “Well, it’s better than tellin’ them about Auntie Baylee’s jar o’ candies she keeps in a yellow clay pot on the bottom-left shelf o’ the pantry,” he retorted. “Oops, did I say that out loud?” He wore a look of mock guilt.

Bain and Sigrid looked at one another, their eyes widening. Squirming their way free from Will’s grip, they bolted back towards the kitchen.

“Oooh, you’re goin’ t’ have _hell_ to pay for that, son,” Warren laughed. “You know how Baylee is about her stash o’ candies.”

“Well, if she doesn’t want them raided, then she should hide them better,” Will snorted. He started to make his way towards the bar. “You want anythin’ t’ drink, Bard?”

“I’ll take a cider if you wouldn’t mind,” he chuckled. “An’ if my children are up until midnight because o’ the sugar rush _you’re_ givin’ them, then it’s _you_ who’s goin’ t’ stay up with them.”

Warren shook his head, laughing. “Ah, he wouldn’t mind. It’d be good practice for when he eventually has his own tykes t’ chase after!”

Will snorted. “What’re you talkin’ about? We just plop them on Baylee’s lap an’ have her tell them some fairytales an’ they’ll be out in no time,” he told them. Pulling out a mug, he crouched down so he could reach the cider barrel. “Just like when they were toddlers.”

“I don’t think they can _both_ fit on her lap anymore,” Bard chuckled. He glanced over at the kitchen doorway just in time to see Baylee come walking out. Bain and Sigrid were draped over her shoulders, wearing mischievous grins. “I see they were caught.”

“Aye, they were,” Baylee chuckled, her brow raised. “An’ they’re little snitches, too—told me right away it was their Uncle Will who told them where t’ find my candy.”

“Did you make sure to fill your pockets?” Will called from behind the bar.

“And our mouths!” Sigrid giggled.

“Atta girl!” Standing upright, Baylee could see that her twin wore just as mischievous a smile as the children she toted. “Did you steal any fruit pies before auntie caught you?”

Bain shook his head, a small pout coming to his lips. “There weren’t any. Weren’t any cookies either.” As Baylee let go of him, he slid backwards until his feet hit the floor; Sigrid copied him, though she let out a little squeak of surprise, as she had further to fall.

“Which is good, considerin’ that _too_ many sweets will have your appetite spoiled,” Baylee told them. “Give me just a second, wee ones. I got t’ go check on the lads.” Ruffling their hair, she walked over to the dwarves, who seemed to be rather entertained by her antics. “How’re your drinks, lads?” she asked.

“Close to empty,” Bifur admitted. “I didn’t know Bard had himself some bairns.”

Nori nodded in agreement. “Knew he had himself a wife who passed on a few years ago, but the children are a bit o’ a surprise.” He slid his mug across the table for Baylee as she started to gather up the vessels.

“They clearly take after their father in his younger years,” Bofur joked, giving Baylee a small, playful wink. As her cheeks grew a bit darker, he felt a little flutter in his stomach for some reason. “Though, they could stand t’ learn a thing or two about bein’ sneaky.”

“They’re young yet,” she smiled, putting the mugs on a tray. She glanced towards the window as there was a third flash of lightning. “They’ll learn in time. Ori, could you pass me Will’s mug?”

He nodded and, plucking it up, held it out to her. “He hasn’t been back here yet, so it’s still got about a quarter o’ his ale left.”

Taking the mug from him, she glanced over her shoulder. Will was busy entertaining the children; as such, she shrugged and downed the rest of his ale for him. Setting it down on the tray, she grinned as she heard the lads snicker. It wasn’t the first time they had seen her finish Will’s drink when he wasn’t looking, but they still got a kick out of it. Lifting the tray, she carried it over to the bar, where she began to refill them.

“Auntie?” She looked down to see Sigrid standing a few feet from her.

“Yes, little one?” Outside, the thunder finally rolled.

“Who’re—who’re those dwarves over there?” she asked jumping slightly at the thunder. “The ones pa, grandpa, an’ uncle are sitting with?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Baylee found that the three humans had, indeed, joined the dwarves. “Those are some o’ our friends who’re staying here,” she replied. “They’re very nice folk.”

Sigrid took a few steps closer. “One o’ them—one o’ them looks like a star,” she loudly whispered. “He’s very pretty.”

Baylee did her best to not crack up; it was the first time she had ever heard one of the lads referred to as ‘pretty’. The fact it was the fairly stoic Nori made it all the more humorous to her. “That one’s Nori. He’s the big brother o’ Ori, the blonde one. Bifur’s the one with the big black an’ white beard while Bofur’s the one in the hat.”

Peeking over the bar at the group, Sigrid looked them over. When Baylee walked over, putting a full mug on the tray, she glanced up at her. “Bofur has pigtails like me,” she stated. For emphasis, she held up the two brunette braids on either side of her head.

“Mhm. ‘Cept he knows a dwarvish secret that makes his curl upwards.”

“Do—do you know the secret, auntie?”

She shook her head. “Can’t say that I do, little one.” She then chuckled. “Why? Do you want your pigtails t’ stick up like his?”

Sigrid wore a small grin as she nodded heartily.

“Hm. Well, you know, dwarves think o’ hair as a sacred thing,” she told her, “but _maybe_ he’d be willin’ to teach you the secret, since you’re so cute an’ small.”

At that, the princess crouched down slightly, her eyes wide.

Knowing that look all too well—Sigrid did it whenever she felt nervous about having to talk to someone new—Baylee chuckled and gently patted her on the head. “Would you like me t’ ask him for you?”

“Please?” came her tiny, shy reply.

“Follow me then, love. I can’t promise he’ll say yes, though. Like I said, dwarves find hair t’ be sacred.” She picked up the tray and started to head back towards the table.

“Like—Like grandpa finds his forge sacred?” She stayed close to Baylee, somewhat hiding herself behind her auntie, despite being almost too tall to hide properly.

Baylee giggled quietly. “Sort o’.” As they approached the table, she removed the mugs and set them by their owners. “Bofur?”

“Aye, lass? An’ thank you for the refill, by the way.” He grinned up at her before taking a drink.

“It’s no trouble,” she chuckled. “This wee one,” she used her head to motion down at Sigrid, “was just wantin’ to know if you’d be willin’ to reveal the secret about how you’re able t’ get your braids t’ curl upwards like that.”

Bofur blinked before chuckling as he saw the little girl peeking out from behind her auntie. “Hmm…Well, _normally_ I’d have t’ decline, since it’s a dwarvish secret as you said,” he said, amusement in his voice, “but if the wee princess says the magic word, I suppose I could let her in on it by showin’ her.”

Sigrid poked her head out a little more. “Pretty please?”

At that, Bofur feigned a look of shock. “Oh, she used _two_ magic words—Now I _definitely_ have t’ show her,” he grinned.

Baylee giggled, her brow rising. “Aye, I can definitely tell you’ve nieces an’ nephews of your own,” she said. She watched as he slid off his stool and patted it, motioning for Sigrid to take his place.

“Do you?” Bard questioned, his brows furrowed slightly.

“Oh, aye—Bombur’s got seven children with the an eighth on the way,” Bifur answered. “An’ all of them adore their Uncle Bofur.”

“ _And_ their cousin Bifur,” Bofur added. When Sigrid got situated, he started to untie her braids so he could redo them the dwarvish way. “An’ it’s not just because we make them toys.”

“But it sure helps,” Nori joked.

“Oh, you shush now,” Bifur snorted.

Lightly shaking her head, Baylee smiled at the group. “Do any o’ you need anythin’ else t’ munch on?” she asked.

Warren shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but there was a boom of thunder. Once it passed, her said, “We’ll be fine, love. Will an’ I can keep the tankards full.”

“Alright then,” she smiled. “You know what t’ do if you need anythin’.” Turning, she headed back to the kitchen, where she found the kettles just starting to steam. She grabbed the first of the three teapots and, using a dishtowel to protect her hand from the head, removed the kettle from the fire. Filling the teapot nearly to the top, she watched as the leaves and bits of dried fruit started to both scent and color the water.

“All three tea pots have Yavanna’s Bounty in them,” Galiene said, glancing over her shoulder at the younger woman.

“Ooh, givin’ them a nice, fruity blend,” Baylee chuckled. “Good choice, especially with this storm ragin’.” Once the first teapot was full, she replaced the lid before setting the now-empty kettle aside. Opening the second teapot, she grabbed the second kettle. “Did I tell you which lads wanted what for dinner, by the way?”

Gawen shook his head. “You were too distracted by the arrival o’ the prince an’ princess.”

“Ahh. Well, all but Bofur an’ Will are having the stew.”

Galiene looked a bit surprised by this. “An’ here I was expecting most o’ them to want both,” she chuckled. She jumped as another clap of thunder shook the building slightly. “Ugh. I hope this storm passes soon…”

“The thunder is still fairly spaced out from the lighting an’ is still pretty quiet, so it’ll be a while before it passes over us,” Baylee told her as she filled the second teapot. “My guess is the Lonely Mountain slowed the storm down a bit, so it’s not movin’ as quickly as it had been an hour ago.”

The cook shook her head, letting out a theatric sigh. “You an’ your love o’ storms,” she jokingly scolded. “It’s unnatural, it is. Storms are loud an’ scary for a reason: T’ keep us inside on nights when we shouldn’t be out. But, _no,_ you an’ Will want t’ go out and play in the damned things.”

Gawen and Baylee snorted at her comment. “We know better than t’ go out and play in storms now,” the latter replied, filling the third teapot now. “We’d rather not end up gettin’ fried by lightning.” Seeing movement in the corner of her eye, she turned just in time to see Wenna and Demelza entering the kitchen.

While Demelza headed over to help with the dinner preparations, Wenna hurried over to Baylee. Her eyes were wide and there was a broad grin on her lips. “Aren’t they handsome?” she whispered excitedly.

Baylee quietly laughed and rolled her eyes; she knew Wenna was speaking about the rangers. Despite her reaction, she nodded in agreement. “Aye, they’re very handsome. An’ their women are very beautiful, too.” She set the third kettle aside and moved to arrange the teapots on a platter. “Which one do you find most attractive? My guess is Nakara.”

“Ooh, he’s definitely one o’ the more handsome ones, but the Rán fellow…Aye, he’s a wee short, but somethin’ about him is just so…” She let out a quiet, dreamy sigh before shaking her head. “What about you? Who do you think’s the most handsome?”

“Not sure yet. I’ve only seen Rán an’ his sister smile. I’ll let you know after I’ve seen the others smile.” She moved to grab nine clay mugs as well as a handful of tea strainers.

Wenna pouted at her words. “Smiles or not, they’re all attractive,” she told her, “so you must find at least _one_ o’ them more appealin’ than the others!”

Her brow rose and she chuckled, the sound a bit defeated. “Alright, alright…I have t’ agree with you: Rán is the most handsome o’ the bunch. But Seth is a close second.”

“Are you two discussin’ the attractiveness o’ our new guests _already_?” Demelza questioned, her brow rising.

“Oh, let them be, Demelza,” Galiene laughed. “They’re young, single lasses—they’re allowed t’ look around.” She then gave her friend a teasing nudge with her hip. “Never know. One o’ them might find a husband among the rangers.”

Both Wenna and Baylee’s faces turned bright red at her implication, making the older women and Gawen laugh.

Gawen walked towards them, bearing a large bowl of sliced vegetables. “That’s what you two get for gossipin’ in the kitchen like wee schoolgirls,” he teased.

Wenna pursed her lips in a pout. “Is that so? Well, I’m sure once you see their women, you’ll be right back here, gossipin’ with us,” she countered. “Because they’re just as pretty—if not more so—than the men.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather not get thwacked upside the head by my aunt,” he replied, pouring the vegetables into the large cook pot. They hissed and sizzled when they hit the hot metal. Grabbing the longest spoon, he started to stir them around before adding a good bit of salt and pepper. “Especially since she’s currently wieldin’ a marble rolling pin.”

“Smart lad!” Galiene laughed, her brow raised.

“That he is,” Baylee agreed with a laugh. Unable to fit all of the mugs and teapots onto one platter, she divided them up between two. She handed the lighter one off to Wenna before motioning for her to follow her back out to the common room.

Only five of the rangers had returned from inspecting their rooms so far, but they had taken up residence at the second largest of the inn’s tables. She and Wenna started to unload the trays, placing a mug in front of those who were seated while the rest they set around one of the tea pots.

“Thank you very much, Lady Baylee and Lady Wenna,” Rán told them, giving them both a thankful smile before pouring himself some tea. “About how long will it be until dinner?”

“About an hour, hour an’ a half,” Wenna replied, her cheeks still the slightest bit flushed. “T’night’s menu is your choice o’ pork stew or beef potpies. There will be fresh bread an’ rolls to go with both, as well as cheese if you’d like.”

He nodded in understanding. “It sounds much more delicious than the hardtack and jerky we ate while on the road here,” he said with a soft chuckle. Now that she was closer to him, Baylee could see some dark circles under his eyes. She also saw that he had strange scars around his lips—it almost looked like his mouth had been sewn shut at one point.

‘They must have been traveling with little rest,’ Baylee thought as more thunder rumbled outside. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like anythin’ to snack on in the meantime, my lord?” she asked.

He nodded. “His Majesty made sure we had a filling lunch,” he assured her.

“Alright,” she smiled. “If you change your mind, just give us a holler.” Excusing herself, she went over to the fireplace, where the fire was beginning to burn a bit low. Crouching down, she grabbed the poker and started to move the logs around.

“Now you bring this one _under_ like this before looping it _over_ this one.” Glancing over at the lads’ table, she saw Bofur instructing Sigrid on how to do the ‘secret’ dwarven braid. While he did one side of her hair, she was following along with the other side. “Aye, just like that, lass! Now, remember how we did that first bit o’ weaving?”

“Mhm!”

“We need t’ do that all over again. An’ again, an’ again until we reach the end, alright? Do you think you can remember all those steps or would you like me t’ show you again?”

Sigrid wore a determined expression as she looked up at the dwarf. “I wanna—I wanna try it on my own first, please.”

Bofur chuckled as he nodded. “O’ course you can, lass. We’ve all the time in the world for you t’ practice.”

Baylee smiled as she watched them; Bofur continued to braid her hair, though he went much slower than normal _just_ in case Sigrid needed a little bit of help. ‘I’m surprised she’s being so still for him,’ she thought, looking back to the fire. ‘Normally, she’s a little wiggle worm. Then again, it has been a few months since I last saw her…She and Bain both seem to have calmed down _slightly_ since then. And Bofur _is_ teaching her something—which is also unexpected. It normally takes her a while to warm up to strangers.”

Standing up, she went over to the wood box and gathered up a few logs. But, as she turned around, the logs were suddenly lifted out of her arms, making her squeak in surprise. Looking up, she saw Bard chuckling, his brow raised at her.

“What’s this? I’ve finally managed to startle the little mouse lass?” he joked.

A playful pout came to her lips and she gave him a small shove. “Very funny, Bard,” she said. “O’ course you startled me—last I knew, you were over at the table with the lads.” They walked back over to the hearth, where Bard knelt down to start placing the logs. “You know, I could have done that myself.”

“You could have…but what kind of king would I be if I didn’t help out once in a while?” he questioned, amusement in his voice as he glanced up at her.

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Oh, don’t give me tha’ tripe. You know full well we don’t care if you’re a king or not ‘round here,” she chuckled.

“Except Galiene, of course,” he replied, using the poker to adjust the coals a bit more.

“Ah, you know she only cares because it means she gets t’ cook her best recipes—the ones she doesn’t get a chance t’ cook very often for us.” She watched him for a minute before looking back at Bofur and Sigrid. It appeared that the girl hadn’t quite gotten the braid right, so he was once more having her follow along as he braided one side. “I’m a wee bit surprised Sigrid’s taken so well t’ Bofur so fast.”

It was at that moment Bofur glanced over at them, catching Baylee as she watched them. He smiled at her and it almost looked like his cheeks had turned a bit pink; the lighting, though, made it hard to tell. Baylee felt her own cheeks grow pink and she returned the smile. When the dwarf went back to working on the braid, she looked back down at Bard.

“Well, from what my memory serves me, he was one o’ the more likeable members o’ the company,” Bard grunted, having to lean in a bit closer to the flames in order to place one of the fresh logs. He stole a glance up at her, finding her cheeks a bit rosy as she watched him. Part of him wondered if the heat of the hearth had simply made her flush or if, perhaps, he had brought it about…? “Though, now that they’re not hiding in my house and complaining about the cobbled-together weapons I provided them with, the other three seem quite agreeable as well.” Hearing Bain burst into laughter, he glanced over his shoulder to find the lad being dangled upside by Will, who was also slightly swinging him from side to side. “Will, please don’t break my son,” he called out as he put the last log on the fire.

“I can’t make any promises!”

“You had _better_ make it a promise!”


	10. Chapter 10

Something felt… _off_.

Bofur didn’t know how to describe it, but the moment he opened his eyes, he knew that there was just _something_ that left his stomach feeling as if it had been tied into a knot He sat up and looked across the room, finding Bifur and Ori both still fast asleep—and with good reason. As he slid out of bed and made his way over to the window, he could see that the skies were still a deep shade of blue, telling him it was early morning.

‘I think…I think I should go check on Bombur.’ The thought came from seemingly nowhere. ‘Yes, I should visit him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. And while I’m there, I can grab a few things…’

With a small frown, he laid down flat on his stomach and pressed his ear to the floor. Not only was it slightly warm, but he could just barely smell baking bread and heard the dull ‘thud’ of the oven being closed.

‘Miss Baylee’s up at least, then,’ he thought. ‘I can grab a mug of tea before I head out…And maybe a slice of that delicious fruit bread she makes—Ooh, if she’s got any made, I should take a loaf or two back to Bombur and Gerdi! Them and the badgers would _adore_ the stuff.’

Getting back to his feet, he made quick work of dressing himself without waking the other two dwarves. He put his hat atop his head and, as quiet as he could be, left the room. Just as he did every morning, he went over to the railing and peeked down into the common room. Though there was a fire in the hearth, he saw no one in the room.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he finally found some activity: The kitchen doors were wide open, showing that Baylee was indeed in the kitchen, kneading away at some dough. A small smile came to his lips and he crossed the common room.

He lightly knocked on the doorframe so he wouldn’t startle her. “Mornin’, Miss Baylee.”

She glanced over at him, smiling. “Mornin’, Bofur,” she chirped, pressing down on the dough. “You’re up earlier than normal.”

“Aye, I got a weird feelin’ in the pit o’ my stomach,” he admitted. Picking up the kettle, he went over to the sink so he could fill it from the fresh water bucket. “Not a bad feelin’, mind you, just…a strange one that says I should go visit my brother.”

Her head tilted slightly, though her gaze remained on the dough; she was sprinkling dried fruit that had been soaked in warm cider over it. “Tellin’ you t’ go visit Bombur, eh? Well, I suppose there are worse things weird feelings in the pit o’ your stomach could be sayin’.” She quietly chuckled, working the bits of fruit in before setting the big ball of dough into a large, buttered bowl. Covering it with a tea towel, she placed it on the counter behind her, where three other towel-covered bowls were sitting.

“You’ve got quite the production o’ bread goin’ already,” he chuckled, carrying the kettle over to the hearth. “I don’t think I’ve seen this much dough proofing, even when Bombur and Gerdi are fillin’ Thorin’s pantry!”

She laughed, using the back of her wrist to push some hair from her face. “I have t’ make extra today because o’ the soup Galiene an’ Gawen will be making in a few days,” she explained. “It’s a really yummy onion soup that you put hard, stale bread in, top with cheese, an’ put it in a roarin’ hot oven for a few minutes t’ get the cheese all melty.”

He cocked his head. “I have never heard o’ such a thing! It sounds mighty tasty, though.”

“It’s a recipe my mum an’ auntie brought up from Rohan.” She looked over at him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Don’t tell my auntie, but mum’s version—the one Galiene makes—is _far_ better than hers.”

“My lips are sealed,” he chuckled. “So long as you don’t tell Bombur that I much prefer Gerdi’s beef stew t’ his.” He propped his elbow on the end of the counter and then rested his chin in his palm as he watched her.

“Bein’ that I have yet to meet either o’ them, my lips are also sealed,” she laughed.

“I’ve no doubt you’ll meet ‘em soon enough,” he said before covering his mouth as he yawned. Glancing at her face, he frowned ever so slightly; she had dark circles under her eyes. “…Did you not sleep well, lass?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at him, having been in the middle of measuring out flour for more dough. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re a bit dark under the eyes.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Ahh…Aye, I had a wee bit o’ trouble staying asleep.” She then smiled reassuringly at him. “Nothin’ to fret about though; I’ll be able t’ sneak a nap in later between breakfast an’ lunch.”

“You had better,” he jokingly scolded, even wagging a finger at her. “Inn maids are o’ no use t’ their patrons if they’re fallin’ asleep on the job.” He grinned as he both saw and heard her giggle; he wasn’t quite sure why, but the sound made his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry—makin’ all this bread is going t’ have me worn out soon enough,” she assured him.

“Speakin’ of the bread…how long do you think it’ll be until some o’ that fruit bread will be finished an’ ready to eat?”

“I just put the first six loaves in the oven about ten minutes before you came down here,” she told him, “so about another half hour, plus some time t’ cool…Why do you ask?”

“I was hopin’ it’d be possible to buy two t’ take with me.”

“Oh, o’ course it’s possible,” she chirped. “From what you an’ the others have told me ‘bout your brother an’ his family, though, I think you _might_ want t’ take three loaves.”

He snickered. “That is _very_ true,” he agreed. “I’m glad you realized that, because I don’t think I would have until I stepped foot in the mansion!”

She tilted her head in curiosity. “Mansion?” she repeated. Seeing him nod, she then said, “T’ be honest, I didn’t think your family would be one t’ live in a mansion.”

“Oh, almost all dwarf families live in mansions,” he explained. “More than one generation o’ family lives in them at a time, so you’ll have grandparents, parents, children, an’ the children’s families all livin’ under the same stone. If ever they run out o’ room, they either carve out additions or the youngest gets t’ go out an’ found a new mansion.” Hearing the kettle getting ready to whistle, he went to get himself a mug. “Bombur, Bifur, an’ me, though, are the first generations in our mansion, so we’ve plenty o’ room.”

“That makes sense…though, I’d imagine for bigger families, it can feel a bit crowded at times.”

“Aye. That’s actually the reason Oin an’ Gloin decided t’ come over here instead of remaining in Ered Luin. They’ve one o’ the biggest families that side o’ the Misty Mountains. I think there’s somethin’ like a hundred-fifty o’ them now?” He shook his head, scooping some tea into a strainer before going to fetch the kettle. “That’s too many t’ keep track of in my humble opinion. Mahal’s beard, sometimes keepin’ track o’ Bombur’s badgers can be tricky enough! My one savin’ grace is that dwarrow dames don’t have the same sort o’ naming traditions as us males. Rather lucky they are in that regard. An’ I’m rambling again. Sorry.”

She looked over at him, her hands busy gently scraping one of the proofed balls of dough from the biggest bowl. “No need t’ apologize,” she said with a smile. “It’s amusing _and_ I get t’ learn more about your culture.” Using the back of her wrist, she once more pushed some hair from her face. It soon fell back into place, though. “I already knew some things thanks t’ da’ and Lovisa, but it’s always nice t’ learn more. Especially since it helps keep me from accidentally insultin’ someone.”

He chuckled as he filled his mug with hot water, her words making his brow rise; for some reason, he couldn’t really picture her insulting _anyone—_ except the old Master of Laketown, that is. “Ah, you don’t have t’ worry about that, Miss Baylee. We dwarves know that our culture isn’t terribly well known outside o’ our mountains, so we rarely take offense. That is, unless you suggest shavin’ off our beards. _That_ can warrant a brawl breakin’ out depending on how much alcohol was consumed. Would you like a mug o’ tea, by the way?”

“That’d be lovely, actually. Thank you,” she smiled. “An’ that’s understandable. Hair an’ beards are precious t’ your people. Tellin’ them to shave would be like telling an Eorlinga—ah, a person o’ Rohan—to sell their horses…or tellin’ a Mirkwood elf t’ give up their wine.”

Bofur let out a loud snort, having to clap a hand over his mouth midway to keep it from being _too_ loud. “Now _that_ would be impossible,” he laughed, looking over his shoulder at her. He saw that she wore a victoriously cheeky grin. “I’ve been inside the king’s wine cellar an’ let me tell you: I have _never_ in all my life seen that much alcohol stored in one place.”

“Oh, aye, I know! I’ve never seen it personally, but when Bard was still a bargeman, he was _constantly_ collectin’ the empty wine barrels and gettin’ them ready to send back t’ Dorwinion.”

“Those barrels are actually how we managed t’ sneak into Laketown,” he told her as he fetched a second mug and tea strainer. “’Course, with our luck, they started off empty an’ then ended up filled with fish—while we were still in them.”

“Ugh, that sounds horrible!”

“None of us could eat fish for at least half a year after that. Poor Ori, especially. The lad’s afraid o’ fish, so him bein’ surrounded by them…?” He shook his head.

“Oh no, the poor dear!” She frowned at the thought; it would already be bad enough to be stuck in a barrel of fish, but to also be afraid of them…? “I don’t blame him, though. Some fish can be quite frightenin’. The sturgeon an’ the giant catfish are the worst.” She stuck her tongue out at the thought of the fish. “I hope he wasn’t stuck in a barrel with either o’ those!”

He shook his head, bringing the mug of tea over to her counter. “Nah. Luckily, it was a bunch o’ small fish we got stuck with.” He set the mug down on a spot that was within her sight range, but out of the way of her breadmaking. Looking at the dough, his brow rose slightly; there were small, dark rounds of something being kneaded in. “What’s this bread goin’ to be, lass?”

“Rosemary an’ olive bread,” she replied. “I don’t make it very often because I don’t want t’ use up all the olives, but papa’s had a hankerin’ for some lately.”

“I would have never thought t’ put olives in bread,” he blinked. “But, I’m also not a cook—just a toymaker. Though I’m curious: Do you have all these different bread recipes memorized? Or is there a cookbook somewhere around here I’m not seein’?”

She let out a laugh. “Well, that’s one way o’ putting it,” she said. “Remember how I told you my memory’s strange with bein’ able to ‘see’ clear pictures an’ such?”

“Aye?”

“Well, that means I can ‘see’ the pages o’ a cookbook—the one from the original Tankard back in Laketown, as a matter o’ fact.” Once more, she wore a mischievous smile. “I may have conveniently ‘forgotten’ some o’ the dishes I didn’t like.”

“An’ no one’s called you out on that yet?” he chuckled.

“Uncle Richard did once. It was because I ‘couldn’t’ remember the recipe for the Tankard’s carrot cake.” Her nose scrunched up slightly in disgust. “An atrocity t’ desserts, it is.” Lifting the kneaded dough, she placed it in yet another large, buttered bowl.

Bofur’s brow rose in amusement. “What’s wrong with carrot cake? I find it quite nice myself—especially with that tangy-but-sweet frostin’ that goes on it.”

She shook her head, putting the bowl on the counter behind her. “The frosting is the only good thing about it. I have yet t’ have a carrot cake that isn’t dense, dry, an’ bland as all get. Now, we’ve some amazin’ bakers in Dale an’ Laketown but none o’ them can make a carrot cake taste good.”

“Well, now, I’m just goin’ to have t’ have Gerdi make one of her carrot cakes for you, lass,” he grinned. “Hers are the lightest an’ moistest carrot cakes I’ve ever had.”

Baylee playfully rolled her eyes. “We’ll have t’ see about that—because it’s not just me you’ll have t’ convince. It’s Will, too. He hates it more than I do!” Wiping her hands off on her apron, she went over to the oven and took a peek inside to find the bread ready. “You’ll want t’ head to the other side of the kitchen,” she warned as she grabbed her peel.

Doing as instructed, he hurried across the kitchen and watched as she opened the oven before quickly ducking out of the way herself. After a few seconds, she skillfully started to remove the ceramic pans two at a time, twisting around to slide them onto the countertop. In less than a minute, she had all six loaves out and was using the peel to shut the oven door once more.

“You’re good at that,” he chuckled. “Almost reminds me of the glassblowers in Erebor.”

Her head tilted. “Glassblowers? What kind o’ work do they do?”

He copied her head motion, blinking. “You’ve never seen a glassblower at work?”

She shook her head. “Glass wasn’t a very big industry in Laketown, as you can imagine. The amount o’ heat needed t’ make it meant that only one building was able t’ make the glass. Even then, they only made windows an’ some mirrors.”

“Ahh, aye, that’s understandable then,” he murmured. “Glassblowers are the ones who make things that aren’t windows or mirrors. Cups, teapots, vases, chandeliers, figurines…Mahal’s beard, some of them even make jewelry!” He watched as she grabbed her mug of tea and bobbed her strainer in it a few times. “They use these real long pipes t’ do most of the shapin’. Since the pipes are hollow, they blow into them an’ it makes the molten glass expand.”

“That…sounds really interesting, actually. Do they ever let people watch them work?”

“Some o’ them do, but a lot o’ them have trade secrets, so they stay behind closed doors.” He took a drink of his own tea. “They are really interestin’ to watch, though. It’s like watchin’ a potter work with clay, except it’s red-hot glass.”

“Next time I have t’ visit Erebor, I’ll have to find one an’ watch them,” she smiled. Taking a sip of her tea, she then set it down in favor of covering her mouth as she yawned. “I’ve some time while these doughs proof…would you like me t’ make you anythin’ to eat?”

Bofur shook his head. “No, no thank you, lass. The feelin’ in my stomach is makin’ me strangely not hungry this mornin’.”

“Well, I hope once you reach your home, that feelin’ goes away.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” he smiled.

* * *

Erebor was just beginning to wake up as Bofur rode in through the front gate. The streets were still fairly empty and shopkeepers were just beginning to open up shop. As he guided his pony along the familiar path towards his home, he felt the anxiousness in his stomach beginning to fade away. Everything around him was calm, so surely things must be calm at the Ur mansion as well…?

When he reached his home and got his pony stabled, he found that it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

With a basket containing three still-lukewarm loaves of fruit bread, he walked in through the front door in time to see Berez rushing down the stairs. His face was as red as his beard and he didn’t even take notice of his uncle as he bolted down the hall.

‘That’s not good,’ Bofur thought, hurrying after him.

As he reached the kitchen, he found Baraz, Berez, and Biriz huddled around the stoves while, much to his surprise, a dwarrow dame who was very much _not_ Gerdi was placing bowls of porridge in front of Boroz, Buruz, Grid, and Sanna. Berez, he saw, was pouring steaming water into a bowl, along with some herbs; which ones, he couldn’t tell.

“What’s going on?” he then asked in Khuzdul, taking them all by surprise.

“Uncle Bof!” all but the dwarrow dame exclaimed. The three youngest slid out of their chairs and raced towards him. Tossing the basket onto the counter, he crouched down and caught them all in a big hug.

“Uncle Bof, you couldn’t have better timing,” Baraz told him. Out of everyone in the room, he looked the most exhausted and he sounded it, too. “Mom went into labor around midnight. Dad’s been pacing the hall outside their room like crazy—Since you and cousin Bifur weren’t here, Thorin went up to keep him company.”

Stepping aside as Berez came towards the doorway with the bowl of steaming water, Bofur let out a hearty laugh. “Is that so? Well, then it’s a good thing I listened t’ my gut when it told me to come visit today!” he grinned. He winced slightly as Sanna used his pigtail to help pull herself up onto his shoulder before grabbing his hat off his head. “What’re you think you’re doing, you wee badger?” he laughed.

Sanna grinned as she slid back off his shoulder and bolted back to the table, his too-big-for-her hat still atop her head.

“She’s been a little thief lately,” Buruz told him. “Stealing bites from everyone’s plates, stealing Biriz’s socks, stealing Grid’s toys…”

“Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was taking after Nori,” Bofur chuckled. He then looked at the dwarrow dame as he ushered Grid and Buruz to go back and eat their breakfast. “And I take it you’re helping to keep these three little ones under control while Bombur and Gerdi are occupied?”

Her brow rose as she smiled at him. “I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m keeping them under control—they _are_ Urs after all,” she said with a laugh. “But yes, when Baraz came bursting into the palace this morning to both announce the impending birth _and_ how we would have to fend for ourselves for breakfast, Thorin and I felt it best we come provide some help and moral support.” She walked over to Bofur, giving him a hug.

Returning the hug, he gave her a small pat on the back. “I’m sure they appreciate both the help _and_ moral support,” he chuckled. As they parted from the hug, he gave her a teasing wink. “And I’m sure you and Thorin appreciate all the ready-made food down here in the kitchen.” He laughed as she swatted at him. “Are Fili and Kili here?”

She shook her head, wearing a small grin. “They were still sound asleep when we left—you know how those two are. Lazy bones in the morning and productive later in the day.”

“They _might_ grow out of it one day.” He then glanced at the basket he had brought. “Well, I should go make sure my brother hasn’t worn a track in the floor…In that basket, there are three loaves of fruit bread. Help yourselves, but save enough for the rest of us, alright? I haven’t had breakfast yet and I sure as Aulë’s red-hot forge want some of it to go with my meal.”

The dame nodded and laughed. “I’ll do my best to ensure no one takes more than their fair share.”

Chuckling, he turned and left the kitchen, heading back down the hallway to the foot of the stairs. As he walked up them, he could hear his brother’s worried mumbling from down the hall. Whatever he was saying, though, was too jumbled to make out and he didn’t have much time to eavesdrop because, as he started down the hall, a second dwarf spotted him.

“Bofur, you’re here!” Thorin said, a relieved smile coming to his lips.

Bombur spun around, his eyes wide. “Brother!” He hurried down the hall, meeting Bofur halfway before pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank Aulë you’re here! The midwife isn’t letting me or Thorin in to be with Gerdi; she was only letting Berez in to run errands!”

“Well that’s not very fair,” Bofur wheezed. His brother’s hug was strong enough that he wondered how much of his spine was out of alignment now. “Why isn’t she letting you in?” He breathed a sigh of relief when he was put back down on the ground.

“He’s too fat,” Thorin replied simply, a bit of amusement on his lips. “The midwife doesn’t want to risk him knocking something over as he paces. And she won’t let me in because I’m not part of the family.”

“You would think she’d let the _King Under the Mountain_ in to provide moral support for his friend, but no—family only!” Bombur grumbled.

Bofur laughed, patting him on the back. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Moving past his brother, he knocked on the door to his and Gerdi’s room. “Gerdi? It’s me, Bofur. Can I come in?”

All three males stared at the door in a mixture of amusement and surprise as the usually-cleaned mouth Gerdi shouted back, “Get your ass in here!”

Not wanting to keep her waiting, Bofur slipped in through the door. He could see his sister-in-law slowly walking back and forth, one hand on the small of her back, the other on her stomach, and pain on her face. She beckoned him over, gladly clinging to his arm when he was close enough to grab.

He was no stranger to this procedure; this wasn’t the first time he had been the one at Gerdi’s side for a birth. In fact, it was the third time he was the one present in place of Bombur, so he knew that this pacing not only helped relieve some of the pain she was feeling, but it also helped a dwarrow dame’s body prepare for the eventual pushing she would have to do.

“She’s very close,” the midwife told him. “I’d say she’ll have the child birthed within the hour.” As she spoke, she walked over to a strange chair that had a large, U-shaped hole cut out of the seat and foot rests about six inches off the ground.

Nodding in understanding, he gently patted Gerdi’s arm. “I’ll tell you, I was not expecting this to happen when I woke up this morning,” he told her with a small smile. “Have you and Bombur thought of any names?”

“Byryz,” she told him, her voice a bit strained. “He’ll be named Byryz. Tell me about yours and Bifur’s shop.”

“Well, it’s about halfway done in terms of repair work. It _had_ been half done, but that storm we had the other day showed us that we need a new roof. The second floor had puddles _everywhere_. Though, that might be because we also kind of _removed_ a section of the roof…” He shook his head. “Luckily, we hadn’t plastered up there yet—just the first floor. The second floor isn’t really our main concern right now, even though we know we’ll be living up there eventually.

“But anyway, it’s a good building. We took down a couple of walls to make a larger store front and the kitchen is nice and big…It’s got the strangest privy room though—not only is there a privy in it, but also a bathtub!” He gave Gerdi’s arm a reassuring pat when she groaned in pain. Staying quiet a moment, he waited to see if she would need to sit or if she needed to start pushing. When neither happened, he began talking again. “Can you imagine that? Bathing in the same room you use to relieve yourself…I suppose it makes sense, though. You can just pour the bath water down the privy. And if you’ve managed to make a mess of yourself on a night of too much drinking, there you go, bath’s right there.”

Gerdi managed a laugh and smacked his arm. “Bofur!”

“What? I’m just speaking the truth,” he grinned, also hearing the midwife laugh. “It’s a strange thing to do, but also a bit handy, don’t you think? Just don’t take a bath right after someone had one of those nights…” He laughed as Gerdi smacked his again. “Alright, alright, what would you rather I talk about?”

“Th-that inn you’re staying at,” she told him. “Bifur told us that it’s nice.”

“Oh, it’s very nice! Good, soft beds; good, filling food; never-empty tankards; and some of the friendliest inn staff I’ve ever seen. I’m sure Bifur already told you about how we hired the innkeeper’s son to work for us.” When Gerdi nodded, he continued. “Well, Will’s been mighty helpful. We’re even thinking about teaching him how to make toys once the shop renovation is done. He might have some difficulty with the finer details, but that won’t matter.”

“Wh-why would he have dif-difficulties?”

“He’s got a bit of nerve damage that makes his arm tremble at times. It’s not too bad of a tremble—most of the time. But there’s been a time or two when he’s literally had to grab his wrist to stop his arm from shaking.”

“The War?”

“Yes. Poor lad got all sorts of scarred up—then again, hardly anyone who fought in that battle came out unscathed.” He shook his head again. “Anyway…I did bring some loaves of fruit bread from the inn, by the way. It’s the specialty of Miss Baylee—she’s the innkeeper’s daughter. She and Will are twins, but you’d never guess it because of how small she is. I daresay she and Dwalin are the same height!”

Gerdi’s brow rose. “Is sh-she part dwarrow?”

“No, no—we joke she could easily be confused for one, but she’s a wee bit too skinny and not hairy enough to be part dwarrow,” he chuckled. Then, unconsciously, he added, “Very pretty, though…But Miss Baylee’s starting to pick up on our habits, too: She tosses food and dishes around with us; she knows how Ori likes _exactly_ a splash-and-a-half of cream in his tea and that Bifur always has his utensils on the left…Speaking of Ori, it seems her and him are becoming fast friends. Just the other day, she went with him to the market to help him haggle prices for some pigments. The lad’s been wanting to make his own paints.”

She nodded in understanding. “Th-that’s good…Ori’s a sw-sweet lad. I’m glad D-Dori’s let him stay in D-Dale on his own. He could—he could do with the free—” She let out a small cry of pain and doubled over. “I-I think it’s time to push,” she whimpered.

Nodding, Bofur helped her waddle over to the strange chair before he and the midwife assisted her in getting situated. He turned his head away at that point; being that this wasn’t his first time being present for a birth, he knew that it could get rather…gross looking to say the least.

“You squeeze my hand as tight as you need, Gerdi,” he told her, offering his hand out to her. “You know I don’t mind if you break some of the bones.” He smiled when his comment earned a pained laugh from his sister-in-law.

“You know what to do by now, I’m sure,” the midwife said, kneeling beside the chair.

Bofur felt Gerdi grip his hand and he winced slightly; though he had expecting her to hold on tightly, he always forgot just how strong her grip was. “You got this, Gerdi,” he told her, one of his eyes closed in pain. He told himself that what he was going through was absolutely _nothing_ compared to what she going through. “Soon enough, you’ll be holding the newest addition to your family and we’ll all be cooing over his cuteness!”

“T-time to shush,” Gerdi grunted out. While she appreciated the distraction his ramblings brought when she had been walking around, she needed concentration for the pushing.

Falling silent, Bofur continued to look away while letting Gerdi squeeze is hand. He did his best to think about the celebration that would take place later that day in an effort to drown out the cries of pain coming from his sister-in-law. Between her cries, he could hear Bombur out in the hall, blubbering to Thorin—more than likely about how he should be the one in here with his wife.

“One more push should do it!”

Bofur’s eyes and jaw clenched shut as his hand was squeezed extra hard; he was certain at least two of his fingers had been dislocated. But the pain was quickly replaced by shock and awe as he heard both the tiny wailing of a newborn and the voice of the midwife as she spoke again.

“It’s a girl! By Aulë’s sacred anvil, Gerdi, you’ve a _third_ daughter!”

“What!?” Bofur gasped, unable to stop himself from looking over. “ _Another_ daughter?” He was just in time to see the little girl, now wrapped in a blanket, be handed up to her mother. “Aulë bless this day—I don’t think _any_ dwarrow’s been so lucky as to have _three_ daughters!”

Gerdi clutched the child to her chest, tears of joy spilling from her eyes. “A daughter! Bless me, the thought of having a third one never even crossed my mind!” She started to coo to the crying child, gently rocking her as best she could in the chair. “Look at all this hair! That’s the most hair I’ve seen on a newborn since Baraz was born!”

Keeping his back turned to the midwife, Bofur smiled down at the sight of his new niece. Her face was the only part of her that had been really cleaned off, leaving him thankful that the blanket obscured the rest of the blood and…yuck. “Shall I fetch Bombur, then?” he asked her.

Gerdi nodded, too enamored by the little girl to pay him much mind. “Yes…yes, tell him he must come see his daughter.”

With a wide grin plastered to his face, he went over to the door and, upon opening it, found Bombur, Thorin, and Dis standing on the other side.

“Well?” Bombur demanded, his eyes wide as saucers. “How did it go? Is the little lad healthy?”

“I don’t know about any ‘little lad’, but I do know that the little _lass_ is healthy and has a mighty pair of pipes on her already!”

Dis and Bombur both let out cries of surprise and joy; Thorin, being more reserved, simply wore a wide grin. As Bofur ducked out of the way, Bombur hurried into the room, not even taking the time to shut the door behind him.

“A third daughter!” Dis exclaimed. “Bless my soul, can you believe that, Thorin?” She was positively giddy in her excitement—an amusing sight, as she was normally just as reserved as her brother.

Thorin chuckled, his brow rising as he watched her. “We’ll most definitely be holding a feast in honor of the miracle!” he said. He then looked at Bofur. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you, but had you been planning to visit today? Because if so, your timing couldn’t have been better.”

He shook his head, leaning against the wall as he rubbed his hand; miraculously, all his fingers were in the right spots. “I woke up early this morning with a strange feeling in my gut. It told me to come visit today, so I thought it best to listen. I didn’t want to wake Bifur, though, just in case the feeling ended up being nothing, so I asked Miss Baylee to relay a message to him for me.”

“So then, it was sheer, dumb luck that brought you here? That sounds about right for you.” Grinning, Thorin clapped Bofur on the back. “Come on; we should go tell the others the blessed news while Dis worms her way into the room to see the baby.”

Dis’ cheeks turned a bit pink and she pouted. “I’ll have you know that I plan on giving mother and father as much alone time as they need with their—”

The door opened and Bombur poked his head (and the frontmost part of his stomach) out into the hall. “Dis? The midwife needs some assistance, if you would be so kind. Thorin, Bofur, I’m afraid you two will have to wait a bit.”

Thorin and Bofur snickered as Dis hurried into the room without question. “That’s fine with us, Bombur,” Bofur told him. “Thorin and I were just about to head down to the kitchen to make the announcement.”

As Bombur nodded and closed the door, the two started to walk down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Have you ever heard of a family having _three_ daughters?” Thorin asked. “It’s rare enough for a family having two daughters—but _three_?”

“This has to be one of the first—if not _the_ first—times it’s happened. Ah, but Bombur and Gerdi deserve it.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “They’re wonderful parents.”

“Do you think you’ll ever have any?” Thorin then asked. He looked at his friend, seeing just a touch of sadness creep into his eyes. “You’re still young enough, you know…Bombur can’t have gotten _all_ the Ur family luck, after all.”

A small sigh left Bofur’s mouth. “I don’t know, Thorin…when Kaia died, it felt like any hope I had at having a family of my own died with her. It’d be a wonderfully pleasant surprise if it _did_ happen, though I’m not going to hold out any hope. You know as well as me that we dwarrows are lucky to fall in love once—falling in love _twice_ is just as rare as having more than one daughter.”

“I’m sure Aulë’s got something in the forge for you.” Reaching over, he patted Bofur on the back. “He’s been mighty sneaky in his crafting of late…Giving Bombur a third daughter, having Kili fall for an elf maiden and she for him, Dori _finally_ giving Ori a bit of freedom…”

Bofur snorted at the last one. “That in and of itself used up the majority of the Ri family’s luck, I’m sure,” he grinned. As they entered the kitchen, they found the seven Ur children either nervously pacing, anxiously stuffing their faces, or, in the case of the three youngest, obliviously eating a second helping of breakfast.

“Well?” Biriz asked, his eyes wide as he saw the king and his uncle. “Did mum give birth yet?”

“She did,” Bofur said, purposefully drawing out the anticipation. His voice managed to draw the attention of the littlest ones, too.

“And?” Boroz questioned. “Is mum alright? Is our brother alright?”

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest. “What brother? It’s another sister you’ve got, lad.”

There was a moment of shocked silence; even Grid and Sanna were silent in surprise. Then, all at once, the seven siblings erupted into loud cheers of joy and relief. Baraz, Berez, and Biriz practically started to dance, they were so happy to hear the news.

“Alright, alright—quiet down you lot!” Bofur laughed. “We don’t need you alerting the whole of Erebor to this! At least, not yet. Give your mum a little bit of time to rest and relax after all that hard work.” As he spoke, he went over to the counter where he had set the basket of bread. To his great relief (and surprise), the bread hadn’t been touched yet. Pulling one of the loaves out, he carried it to a cutting board. “Baraz, bread knife!”

Nodding, Baraz opened a drawer and pulled out a long, sheathed knife. “Here you go, Uncle Bof!” Making sure the sheath was on well, he tossed it across the kitchen.

Catching the knife, Bofur grinned. “Thanks, lad!” As he made to start cutting the bread, Thorin came over and leaned against the counter.

“Once Bombur comes down, I’ll start making arrangements for a feast with him,” said the king. “I’m sure he’ll want the usual crowd in attendance.” His brow rose slightly as he was offered a slice of the bread, which he took and then smelled. “What kind of bread is this?” Looking it over, he found little flecks of fruit scattered throughout the piece.

“Fruit bread. It’s a specialty of Miss Baylee,” he explained, continuing to slice the loaf. “She’s the daughter of the proprietor of the inn we’re staying at.”

Taking a bite of the bread, Thorin was rather surprised to find that it was more similar to cake in texture than bread. He also discovered that the red and orange flecks had been bits of cranberry, candied orange peel, and pear. It was a combination he wouldn’t have come up with, but found himself rather enjoying.

“Bombur and Gerdi are definitely going to want this recipe,” he murmured, looking at the piece of bread before taking another bite.

Bofur chuckled, his brow rising. “It’s good, isn’t it? Truthfully, when she first told us that one of the inn’s specials was fruit bread of all things, me and Ori were a bit skeptical. We’ve heard of fruits in pastries, in cakes, and in cookies, but never bread.” Plucking up a piece himself, he took a large bite. After chewing and swallowing, he grinned.

“Don’t let Fili near this bread,” he smiled, his brow rising. “You know how much the lad enjoys cranberries.”

“He is the only person I know who gladly eats _fresh_ cranberries,” Bofur snorted, shaking his head. Feeling a tug on his tunic, he blinked and looked down only to find Grid looking up at him.

“What’re you eatin’, Uncle Bof?” she questioned.

Grabbing two pieces of the bread, he handed them to her. “Fruit bread,” he smiled. “Be a good badger and take one to Sanna, alright?”

“You mean this cheeky little badger?”

Bofur looked over at Thorin only to find his arm outstretched and Sanna dangling from it. She wore a wide grin that was quickly obscured as his hat fell into her face. Rolling his eyes, he let out a hearty laugh. “Sanna, you know better than to be climbing all over guests like that—especially the king!”

“It’s alright,” Thorin assured him. He wore a smile as he turned the girl upside down, making her squeal in amusement as she clutched her uncle’s hat atop her head. “After helping raise Fili and Kili, I’m rather used to dwarrowlings climbing all over me.”

“Sanna likes to climb _everything,_ though,” Grid told him. She held out one of the pieces of bread to her sister, who gladly took it.

“Tank you,” she said.

“Ah, the wee lass just likes to feel tall,” Thorin chuckled. He turned her right-side up, which earned another set of giggles. “You did the same thing when you were her age—so did Kili, come to think of it.”

Bofur opened his mouth to reply, but there was a ringing from the front door. Excusing himself, he went down the hall and popped the last bite of bread into his mouth. The bell rung again just a few seconds before he opened the door to find two young adult dwarves on the front step: Crown Prince Fili and Prince Kili.

“We came as soon as we heard!” Kili told him, speaking hurriedly.

“Has the child been born?” Fili asked, his voice a bit calmer than his brother’s.

“Barely half an hour ago.” Stepping aside, he ushered the two inside. “It’s another wee lass for the family, too!”

The pair let out joyous cheers, heartily patting Bofur on the back.

“Have they a name for her yet?” Kili questioned, a wide grin on his lips. “Last I heard, they had only picked out a male name.”

Bofur shook his head. “They were convinced they were having another son, so no name for the wee lass yet. Come along, now—almost everyone’s in the kitchen. Your mum and Bombur are up with Gerdi.”

“Uh-oh. That means you left Uncle to wrangle the little ones?” Fili snickered. As he started for the kitchen, Bofur frowned slightly; he was limping quite badly.

Not having paid attention to his question, Bofur in turn asked, “Fili, is your leg feeling alright? You’ve got yourself a bad limp today.”

Looking down at his leg, the prince shrugged. “It’s fine, I promise. I just put it on in a hurry, so the padding and such isn’t sitting quite right. I’ll fix it when I use the privy.”

“He’s half lying,” Kili told him, earning a glare from Fili. “The prosthetic has been bothering him a bit lately, so we’ve been keeping our eyes out for any craftsmen or women who seem skilled enough to make him a new one.”

Bofur nodded in understanding. “Will you have the new one made from metal? Or still going to go with wood?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Fili admitted with a sigh. “I’d like a metal one, but something tells me it’d get to be a pain to lug around. Aulë’s beard, just this wooden one is hard enough some days.” He then gave Bofur a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, though—it’ll be fine.” He then cleared his throat and held up a neatly wrapped package. “On a different note, I have a gift for the newborn. Is there somewhere I can put this until Gerdi or Bombur could open it?”

Knowing it would useless to continue the conversation about his leg, Bofur nodded. “It’ll be safest in the family room for now, since no one’s in there,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll go put it in there and meet you two in the kitchen.” He smiled and headed down a hallway while Bofur and Kili continued on walking straight.

Entering the kitchen, they were greeted by the sight of Baraz hoisting up Grid and Buruz, both of whom were covered in porridge. At the dining table, Berez and Biriz were cleaning up what looked like a miniature warzone.

“Wh-what happened here?” Bofur gawked. He had only been gone a few minutes!

Grid smiled cheekily. “Buruz asked me if I was going to eat the rest of my porridge. I said no, he asked if he could have it, an’ I started passing it to him.”

“You weren’t _passing_ it!” Buruz argued with a pout. “You flung it at me with your spoon!”

“So he flung some back at her and the two had an all-out war,” Baraz sighed. “Hello, Kili. There’s plenty of food if you and Fili are hungry.” He smiled tiredly before toting the two off towards the bathing pools.

Thorin shook his head as Kili made a small ‘Ooh!’ sound and hurried in to go see what there was to eat. “Fili and Kili used to do the same thing when they were dwarrowlings,” he smiled. He still had Sanna, who was now perched atop his shoulders; she had finished her bread and was now just observing things while occasionally having to push her uncle’s hat up out of her face.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Bofur chuckled. He glanced over at the far doorway in time to see Fili limp in. “Help yourself to some food, Fili,” he called over before walking over to Thorin. He plucked Sanna off his shoulders, making sure to blow a nice, big raspberry on her cheek to make her squeal. “Uncle Bof and Thorin are going to go talk in the family room, alright? You keep being a good badger for your brothers. No trying to steal Kili’s eyepatch or Fili’s leg, alright?”

“Yes, Uncle Bof.” She squealed again as he blew another raspberry on her other cheek. As Bofur set her down, she scurried across the kitchen to try and steal more food.

Quietly laughing to himself, Bofur motioned for Thorin to follow him out of the kitchen. “So, I’ve heard you’re sending Fili to Dale in a few weeks?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the king. “Does it happen to have anything to do with the assignment you’ve given Nori? Or is that top secret?”

Thorin’s brow rose in amusement. “I’m afraid Nori’s mission _is_ top secret—for now, at least,” he answered. “But yes, Fili will be going to Dale in my place…And then, after that, he shall be going down to Laketown where he will see how well they’re coming along and if they’re in need of more gold to help with anything.” Entering the living room, the two plopped themselves down in a set of plush chairs.

“That’s a good way to give him a taste of what being king will be like. Even if he’s not the king of Dale or Laketown, it’ll still be good for him to also mingle with the common folk.” he used his foot to drag over a footstool before propping his feet up on it. “I know he does that quite a bit here, but humans are different from we dwarrows.”

The king nodded before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. “I assume the inn you, Bifur, and Ori have been staying at is the one Nori recommended to us? The Full Tankard?”

“You’d be correct in that assumption.”

“Then I’ll rest assured he’ll be treated well there. Especially if they keep him well supplied with that bread.” He quietly chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Dwalin will be going with him, of course.”

“Will there be anyone else in his entourage?” Bofur joked, his brow cocked.

Thorin snorted. “Dis tried to talk him into taking a few guards with him, but he refuses. Says he, Dwalin, and Nori will be plenty. I can’t say I disagree with him—they can be quite the formidable team if someone tries to attack them.”

Bofur’s brow rose. “Do you anticipate on them getting attacked?”

“No, but there have been reports of raiders attacking merchant caravans close to Dale and Laketown.” Opening his eyes, he looked over at Bofur. “That’s another thing Fili will be discussing with Bard. We need to do something about the raiders, especially since we’re not sure where they come from.”

Bofur frowned at this. “…Huh. I wonder if that’s why the queen of Dorwinion gifted Dale with a troupe of rangers…?”

At that, Thorin’s brow rose. “The queen of Dorwinion gifted Dale with rangers?”

Nodding, Bofur rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not too certain on the specifics, but I know they’re staying at the Tankard, too. Apparently, the barracks aren’t quite up to livable standards just yet…”

“Hm. Interesting…I don’t suppose you’ve seen much of them?”

He shook his head. “No. They’ve only been there about four days.” He then let out a small laugh. “However, I do know they’ve got the women of Dale in a bit of a tizzy. Apparently, the males are the sorts human women find _very_ attractive. Oh…And one other thing I noticed: One of them is a half-elf and their leader is most definitely a half-dwarrow.”

That made Thorin’s brow rise once more. “Oh? How could you tell?”

“Shaves in the morning and has stubble by evening, broad shoulders like a dwarrow, big ears like a dwarrow, shorter than everyone but Miss Baylee…Definitely a half dwarrow.”

“Not many of those in the world,” Thorin murmured, more to himself than to his friend.

“Not many, no, but that’s the second one I’ve heard of in the last couple of months.”

“What do you mean? Is there another roaming in Dale?”

“Not Dale. Laketown.” He shifted in the chair, crossing his ankles over one another. “There’s apparently a mute half-dwarrow dame down there who used to be Miss Baylee and Will’s nanny.”

Thorin’s brow rose in intrigue. “…That family gets more and more interesting with every new thing you tell me about them.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise early update~! I hope you all enjoy <3 
> 
> ALSO: I went back and added an illustration of Ran and his rangers to chapter 9! So if you want to see how I see the rangers, go check it out~

“…Griddle cakes for Aizik, porridge for Fifika, an’ some scrambled eggs an’ sausage for Rán.” Baylee smiled as she set the dishes down in front of their owners. “Is there anything else I can get for you lot?” she then asked.

“More cider, please,” Kreine answered after taking the last drink from her tankard.

“Likewise, please,” came the voices of Hunil, Aizik, and Ashailyn.

Nodding, Baylee gathered up their cups on her tray and headed over to the bar. It was still fairly early in the morning—only an hour or two past sunrise—but she had quickly come to learn that the rangers were early risers. Thankfully, though, their breakfasts were _much_ lighter compared to the heavy meals she had grown used to making for the dwarves. In fact, they were quite light compared to the breakfasts had by other humans, too.

She was in the middle of refilling the third cider when the door to the inn opened and she curiously looked over; it was exceedingly rare to get a customer this early in the day. When Bofur and Bifur walked in, she blinked and then smiled. Both dwarves were wearing large smiles—a good sign, she thought, given that they had been gone the last two days because of the strange feeling in Bofur’s stomach.

“Welcome back, Bofur an’ Bifur,” she smiled. “Judgin’ by those big grins o’ yours, all is well under the mountain?”

“More than well!” Bifur told her as they walked over to the bar.

“I’m a proud uncle t’ a _third_ niece!” Bofur was beaming as he said the words. “Three daughters for my brother— _three_! That’s outright unheard of among our people!”

Her eyes widened and she let out a laugh; she knew that the female dwarf population was much lower than the other races, so she knew the importance of such an event. “That’s wonderful! Mother an’ child are both happy an’ healthy, too, I take it?”

Bifur nodded. “Aye. After a nap, Gerdi was up and giving orders t’ the rest of the family t’ help prepare the feast,” he laughed. “She even had Thorin slicin’ up vegetables.”

“Thorin is good at many a thing, but being in the kitchen…?” Bofur shook his head. “He’s much better at being a king than a chef.”

She snorted, her brow rising. “Thorin was really there?”

“Oh, aye he was; Dis, his sister, is best friends with Gerdi an’ there was _no_ way she was going to miss the birth o’ her friend’s _eighth_ child,” Bifur explained as he came around the bar, grabbing himself a mug. “As such, our families have grown quite close.”

“So we’re allowed t’ make fun of Kili for turning into a blubbering mess when he got t’ hold wee lil’ Edda,” Bofur snickered.

“Aw, Edda is an adorable name!” She set the now-full mug of cider on the tray before grabbing the last one. “I’m glad all turned out so well! I have t’ admit, I’ve been worried that maybe something bad had happened an’ that’s why you two were gone so long.” Moving to fill the cup, she saw Bifur patiently waiting his turn. “Have you two eaten, by the way?”

Bofur chuckled, feeling his cheeks flush ever so slightly when she said that she had been a bit worried about them. “Nope, just one, big happy event,” he laughed. “An’, aye, we have eaten. Gerdi made sure we’re going to be stuffed until dinner. Do you mind if I go make myself some tea, though?”

“Feel free,” she smiled. “I’ll be in there once I get these ciders dealt back out to the rangers.” She looked back into the tankard just in time to close the tap. “All yours, Bifur.” Setting the tankard down on the tray, she picked the tray up and carried it back to the rangers.

“Lady Baylee?”

She blinked, turning her head to look up at Rán as he spoke; she wasn’t quite used to being called ‘lady’. “Aye?” She set Ashailyn’s cup down beside her.

“I apologize if this seems intrusive,” he started, “but I have been curious as to why you allow the dwarves into the kitchen and behind the bar, but no one else?”

“Not intrusive at all, milord,” she replied with a smile. “They’re friends an’ they’ve proven trustworthy enough for us t’ let them serve themselves at times. Mostly in the mornings when it’s just me workin’, though.”

His head tilted curiously, though there was some concern in his eyes. “…You mean to say it has only been you cooking the meals for us and the dwarves at this time?”

She nodded, moving to set Hunil’s tankard down beside him. “Aye, but no worries—Breakfast is one o’ the easiest meals to make,” she assured him. “I can make a big batch o’ something and then distribute it evenly among the orders.”

Aizik leaned across the table, taking his mug from her and uttering a thanks before taking a long drink from it.

Rán nodded slowly in understanding. “So long as it is not burdensome to you,” he said. “As guests here, we do not wish to be nuisances.”

She dismissively waved her hand after returning Kreine’s mug. “Nuisances? So far, you’ve been as good o’ guests as the dwarves,” she replied with a smile. “However, if you’ll excuse me, I’m smellin’ the first batch of bread quite strongly, which means I’ve got t’ get them out of the oven.” As Rán nodded, she turned and left the table, heading for the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, she found Bofur at the stove, just setting the kettle down on the grate. “Ah, did I forget t’ refill that again?”

Having not heard her, Bofur jumped in surprise. “Mahal’s beard, lass, you gave me a right fright!” he half laughed, half sighed in relief.

“Sorry,” she chuckled, setting her tray down. As she walked behind him, she lightly set her hand on his shoulder to let him know she was there. “I thought you had heard me open the door.”

“Ah, I guess I was too lost in my thoughts t’ have heard it.” He glanced over at her, just in time to see her grab the peel off the wall. “Your fruit bread was _very_ well received, by the way.”

“Was it?” She looked over at him as she opened the oven, standing off to one side to let the heat waft out.

He nodded. “Aye, it was. Everyone loved it—Fili, especially. He adores cranberries, so he was trying t’ steal all of the bread when no one was looking.” As he watched her, he saw her cheeks grow dark red; but whether it was from hearing how much Fili enjoyed the bread or the heat of the oven, it was impossible to tell.

“I’ll be sure t’ make extra for when he visits,” she said with a small grunt, pulling three loaves out of the oven. “Don’t want t’ disappoint the crown prince o’ Erebor, after all!”

“I think it’ll be the _only_ time Fili will accept special treatment bein’ given to him,” he chuckled. His brow then rose slightly as he thought of something. “By the way, have _you_ eaten yet today, lass?”

“Not yet, no. I was goin’ to eat some food after I get these out o’ the oven an’ the next batch in. In fact, that plate there is mine.” She pointed at a plate that had three fried eggs, some sausages, and a pair of seed cakes on it before pulling two more pans out of the oven.

Moving to get himself a mug and some tea, he glanced over his shoulder at her, seeing her starting to put the next batch of loaves into the oven now. “Good. The last thing we need is for you t’ go hungry.” Climbing up on the counter, he grabbed himself a cup.

“Hm. I think I’ve heard someone say that t’ me before,” she joked. She tucked some hair behind her ear before gathering up three loaves on the peel.

“Well, whoever said it t’ you must’ve known what they were talkin’ about,” he joked in return. He slid off of the counter and opened the tea tin; behind him, he heard the creak and thud of the oven door closing.

“Speakin’ food, though, it’ll be Wenna or papa bringin’ you lads your lunch today,” she said, hanging the peel back up.

He cocked his head as he started to fill the tea strainer. “Hm? Why is that?”

“My uncle needs my help out in the fields,” she explained. “Since everything’s coming into bloom, he wants t’ go look for the flowers an’ roots he can use in his medicines. Papa an’ me are the only ones who remember what the plants look like, so he’s bringing me along this time. Ori will be coming with us, too.”

Nodding in understanding, he put the strainer in the cup before carrying it over to the stove. “Makes sense. I suppose your da’ doesn’t want t’ leave the inn without supervision for too long, after all.”

She laughed, using the peel to close and latch the oven shut. “Ah, Galiene an’ auntie are all the supervision the Tankard needs. Da’s just the muscle if ever any trouble gets stirred up.”

“Has there ever been trouble here?” he asked, his brow rising.

“Not very often, but there has been a few incidents in the past…I think the last time was two years ago? Pair o’ unsavory men came in and kept harassin’ auntie an’ our previous hostess. Da’ hoisted them both up like they were nothin’ and literally tossed them out into the street while scolding them for being such rude customers.” Walking over, she picked up her plate of food. “I think they got so embarrassed they didn’t even go t’ the Hog’s Head.”

“The Hog’s Head?” he repeated, looking up at her as he filled his mug with boiling water.

She nodded. “Aye. It’s a seedy inn over on the northern side o’ the city. The only folk who go there are scoundrels an’ vagabonds.”

‘I wonder if Nori knows about it, then?’ Bofur thought to himself. “Well, I’ll be sure to stay away from it then. Don’t need my purse pinched or t’ be drinking stale ale any time soon.”

~*~

“Is this enough dandelions, uncle?”

Peering into Baylee’s basket, Richard found it half full—a feat, given how large the basket was. He chuckled and nodded. “Aye, that should be more than enough. Did you happen t’ see any calendulas while you were out lookin’?”

She nodded and pointed out to a large swathe of yellow in the near distance. “Almost that whole area is calendula an’ dandelions. I wasn’t sure if you wanted any calendula yet, so I held off on gathering it.”

“Alright. Let’s bundle up your dandelions then you can go an’ fetch some that next,” he told her. From a cloth sack, he pulled out a second sack that he held open for his niece. She carefully poured the dandelions into it, having to tap the bottom of the basket a few times to loosen those flowers that had gotten stuck. “This will make plenty of tea and salve,” he murmured.

“Aye, it should,” she agreed with a chuckle. Leaning over slightly, she peered into his basket. “Athelas? Did papa ask you t’ get him some?”

Tying the bag closed and standing up, Richard headed over to his horse. “Aye, he did. But, as he’s proven in the past, it’s a good herb t’ keep around.” Not wanting the flowers to get crushed inside the saddlebag, he tied the sack to it instead. There were already four others hanging from the saddlebag, each one filled with a different type of plant. “Have you managed to find any angelica yet, by the way?”

“No. I tried lookin’ in the spots I found it last year, but there weren’t any. If you’d like, I could ride t’ the more southern fields an’ look there?”

He shook his head, watching as she used the hem of her overdress to wipe as much pollen from the inside of the basket as possible. “No, no—that’s fine, love. I’ll restock when I get to Laketown. Their angelica is already dried, after all.” Turning, he looked out over the field; in the near distance, he saw a dark spot among a patch of orange flowers: Ori. “Speakin’ of Laketown…Would you like t’ come with me?”

Her eyes widened and a grin spread across her lips. “O’ course I would! It’s been almost four years since I last visited,” she told him.

“I had a feeling that’d be your answer,” he chuckled. Reaching down, he lightly ruffled her hair. “I want you t’ think a bit longer on it, though. With those reports o’ raiders attacking travelers, it might be a bit of a dangerous trip this time around and I want you t’ consider the fact that you may, possibly, have t’ fight against _humans_.”

Her brows furrowed. “But the reports haven’t stated if they’re orcs, humans, or even a mixture o’ both.”

“Which is why, if you _do_ still decide t’ come with, you need t’ be prepared just in case. I know you’ve fought an’ killed _orcs_ , but fighting against—and possibly _killing_ —humans is going to mess with your mind more than any orc.” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest before looking out over the fields again. “There’s a reason I’m a healer an’ not a warrior…the first time I had t’ kill a man, it left me traumatized for weeks.”

She nodded slowly in understanding, also looking out at the fields. “I’m pretty sure it’s papa I’ll have t’ convince to let me go,” she said after a few minutes. “An’, knowin’ him, it’s going to take a lot o’ convincing on my part.”

“Well…you _are_ his little girl. Any man would be loathed t’ let his daughter go travelin’ when there’s been reports of raiders.” He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “But, it’s not as if you’ll be travelin’ alone. There’s a reason why it’s goin’ to be a _group_ o’ us traveling south. Safety in numbers and all that.” Looking up at the sky, he saw the sun nearly three-quarters of the way through the sky. “It’s almost time t’ head back. Why don’t you go fetch Ori an’ some calendula, love? I’ll finish up here an’ meet you over on the road.”

She nodded. “Alright, uncle. It shouldn’t take me too long—not with how much o’ the flower is out there.” Chuckling quietly, she fetched one of the empty sacks and went over to Buttercup. She mounted the horse and, after turning her around, clicked her tongue. The mare took off down the path at a trot.

Not even ten minutes later and the pair had reached the swathe of orange and yellow flowers. Ori, who was sitting in the middle of them, looked up from his sketchbook and smiled.

“Still drawing?” Baylee asked, dismounting the horse. Carefully picking her way through the field, she moved to sit beside him.

“Ah, I took a bit of a break,” he admitted. “Drawing cities and rocks can be rather tedious.” His cheeks turned a touch pink as he smiled. “…Would you like t’ see?”

She perked; though he had freely shown her the drawing he had done of her mother’s grave, Ori was a bit secretive when it came to his sketchbook. “I’d love to,” she replied.

Opening his sketchbook to the correct page, he turned it around and handed it to her. “Be a bit careful; it smudges easily.” He watched as she took the book, making sure to hold it only by the edges.

Scrawled across two pages were Dale and the outstretched arms of the Lonely Mountain. She looked up from her spot, comparing the sight of the real thing to the drawing. A grin came to her lips; it was nearly an exact copy. Looking back down at the sketch, she continued to marvel at it.

“If there was a bit o’ color t’ this, I’d think I was lookin’ at the real thing,” she told him, carefully handing it back. “Actually, thinking about it, I could have been lookin’ at the real thing durin’ winter.”

His cheeks flushed darkly and his smile turned more shy. “R-really? An’ here I was thinking it looked like hen scribbles.”

“You must know some extremely talented hens, then.” She gently nudged him with her elbow. “You should have more faith in your art—it’s honestly some o’ the best I’ve ever seen, Ori.” While she spoke, she had started to pick the flowers and put them into the sack.

He let out a small laugh. “To be honest, the only hen I really know is Dori,” he joked. “I bet he’s just itching to come get me from Dale…” Shaking his head, he closed his sketchbook again and slid it into its harness. Then, looking at Baylee, he found her picking flowers. “I didn’t know marigolds had medicinal benefits…”

“Aye, they do. I’m not sure about all their uses, but I know that creams an’ ointments made with them are good for the skin while the oil extracted from them can be helpful for cleanin’ wounds. Oh, an’ you can extract dye from the petals an’ use it to dye cheese.” Picking one of the flowers, she lifted it up and started to inspect it. “They’re also very pretty.”

“From what I’ve heard, you think all flowers are pretty,” he teased.

Her cheeks darkened a bit and her brow rose. “Let me guess: Will told you that?” She laughed as he nodded. “Well…he’s not wrong. I do love flowers.” Tucking the plant into the sack, she started to gather up more. “In Laketown, I used t’ have a little window box o’ dwarf sunflowers. They were the cutest little things; they always put me in a good mood whenever I saw them.”

“I take it sunflowers are your favorites, then?”

“Mhm. They’re just so bright an’ cheery. The only part I don’t like ‘bout them is the seed pods on the really big sunflowers.” She stuck her tongue out at the thought. “I don’t know why, but the sight o’ all those seeds just gives me the willies.”

“For some reason, it really doesn’t surprise me that sunflowers are your favorite,” he laughed. “But I agree: The seed pods _are_ creepy.” His nose scrunched up slightly before he shook his head. “Funny that you say sunflowers are your favorite, though…They’re also Bofur’s favorite.” Picking two of the flowers, he started to weave them together.

Her brows rose in surprise. “Really? I didn’t think males had favorite flowers…”

“Some o’ us do—not many, but there are those o’ us who enjoy them. Bofur likes sunflowers, I like tulips, Thorin likes bluebells…”

“Tulips?” She chocked her head. “I’ve never heard o’ that kind of flower before.”

“Really? Ah, come t’ think o’ it, I suppose I haven’t really seen any growing on this side o’ the Misty Mountains…But they’re a pretty flower that come in all sorts o’ colors.” Picking a few more flowers, he started to weave them into the chain. “I’ve been thinking about askin’ Dori to import some. I think they’d do fairly well here.”

“If they bring more color t’ the area, then I’m all for it,” Baylee grinned. She was forced to scoot a little way away from him as she ran out of flowers within her reach. “Aye, color is coming back to the area, but it’s still mostly varying shades o’ grey.”

He snorted. “Oh, sure, give me even more excuses to break out my pigments in the future,” he joked. “But…you’re right. The area could do with more color an’ with how many different varieties o’ tulips there are, there could be miles an’ miles o’ tulip fields, each one a different color an’ never repeating.”

“That many? Who grows them? Or do they grow that way naturally?”

“Both. They were found t’ be so pretty, humans, dwarves, an’ hobbits started to cultivate them an’ somehow managed to create even more varieties.” He glanced over at her, finding her back to him as she continued to pick only the best of the flowers. Looking down at the chain of calendula he had made, a mischievous grin came to his lips.

“I always find it interestin’ how farmers are able t’ make new types of plants,” she chuckled. “They can make hardier varieties o’ wheat, larger types o’ carrots, less leafy celeries—” She blinked as she suddenly felt something land on her head. Raising her hand, she lightly brushed it across the top of her head and found a crown of flowers sitting there. She then looked over her shoulder to find Ori wearing a cheeky grin. “You made me a flower crown?”

He shrugged, still grinning. “I thought my fingers could use the stretch,” he half-joked.

She smiled, her cheeks a touch pinker than they were a moment ago. “Well, thank you,” she chuckled. “Now I’m goin’ to smell pleasant for the rest o’ the day.”

A small laugh left his mouth and he cocked his brow. “Normally, you smell like freshly baked bread, so I’d say you smell pleasant most o’ the time,” he told her. Realizing how strange that sounded, he then frowned. “N-Not that I’m goin’ around, smelling you or anythin’. It’s just, whenever we’ve met up outside of the Tankard, you’ve always smelled like baked bread.”

Baylee laughed, making Ori feel a bit relieved. “Aye, I suppose that’s one o’ the perks of baking so much,” she grinned. Giving the bag of flowers a shake to get them settled, she found that it was filled little more than a quarter of the way. “To be honest, I do wear a bit o’ perfume, but it seems that it just ends up blendin’ in with the bread.”

Kneeling down near her, he started to help with gathering flowers. “What scent is it?”

“Almond.”

“Ah…yes, that would blend in quite well with the breads,” he chuckled. “At least you get stuck with work that makes you smell good. Some jobs out there leave you smellin’ horrible.”

She giggled and nodded in agreement. “My da’ learned that the hard way. My mum wouldn’t marry him until he found a job that didn’t leave him smellin’ like an unwashed pig.”

“Blacksmithing _can_ be quite smelly,” he chuckled. “I don’t have personal experience with it, o’ course, but when you’re a dwarf, you know plenty o’ other dwarves who _are_ smiths.”

“I can only imagine how bad it can get if you’ve got more than one person in an area,” she chuckled. “Papa has his little forge next t’ the stables where he makes an’ repairs pots an’ pans, an’ after just a few hours in there, he can smell quite…well, _bad_.” Scooting forward a bit more, she continued to pick the flowers.

“The perils of doing such laborious work, I’m afraid,” he smiled. Standing up, he walked over to her and, as she opened the bag for him, dumped his bundle of flowers into the bag. When she gave it a shake, they saw that it was halfway full. “How much more do we need to collect?”

“I like t’ get it at least three-quarters full,” she explained. “Extractin’ enough oil to fill even just _half_ o’ one of his bottles takes the majority o’ a bag.”

Ori frowned as he crouched down and started picking more flowers. “That’s not a very big harvest t’ yield ratio. How does he extract the oil from them?

“He uses a sort o’ press. It basically smashes the flowers, which forces the oil out o’ them.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; having forgotten she was wearing a flower crown, she got a little startled when her fingers brushed past the petals.

“Is that the only way t’ get the oil out?”

“There are a few ways, but for him, the easiest method is the pressin’ method. There’s one way that involves usin’ a type of very strong alcohol an’ lard, but we need all o’ the lard for the kitchen.”

His brow rose. “That…sounds like a really strange way to extract oil. I don’t really see how alcohol or lard could help with that, t’ be honest.”

She nodded in agreement. “Aye, neither do I. Uncle tried t’ explain it to me once, but it just got too complicated.” Looking up, she gazed towards the rocks where she had last seen her uncle. His horse was no longer there—in fact, his horse was no longer in sight. ‘He’s probably on the other side of the rocks,’ she told herself.

Ori, on the other hand, glanced in the opposite direction. His brows furrowed slightly as he saw a single rider heading in their direction. It was hard for him to tell at what speed they were traveling, but it was faster than a trot. “I wonder who that is?” he thought aloud.

“Hm?” Turning, she saw the rider, but they were still too far for her to make them out. “Probably just one o’ the farmers needing t’ come t’ town for something,” she assured him. In truth, however, she was a bit wary of the person. Standing up, she leaned backwards slightly and heard her back pop a couple of times. “Let’s get the flowers closer t’ Buttercup,” she suggested. “That way we won’t have t’ walk as far back.” Just in case the rider was unfriendly, she wanted to be near the mare—both as a means of escape and because of the sword she had tucked under her saddlebag.

“That’s a good idea,” he smiled, unaware of her true intentions. He dumped his current batch of flowers into the sack and headed back across the flower patch.

Following behind him, Baylee kept glancing at the rider. Unlike Ori, she knew they were riding at a canter rather than a gallop—she guessed whoever it was would pass by them in about five minutes.

‘Just a farmer, Baylee,’ she thought. ‘It’s just a farmer…if it were a raider, they’d be a dumb raider, striking this close to the city.’ Kneeling down, she started to pick calendula once more.

“So…your uncle mentioned on the way out here that he’s plannin’ on going down t’ Laketown with the group Fili an’ Bard are arranging,” Ori said after a moment. “Why does he need t’ go there?”

“Well, for one, his an’ auntie’s children an’ grandchildren live down there an’ he’d like t’ visit them,” she explained. “The other reason is because Laketown has lot o’ herbs an’ medicinal plants that Dale doesn’t have.”

His head tilted. “How much more can they have? They’re—what, twenty? Thirty?—miles south o’ Dale.”

“No, no, they’re closer t’ fifty; Laketown’s at the southern end o’ the Long Lake,” she chuckled. “But landscapes can change a great deal in such a small distance. Up here, it’s rocky an’ hilly while down at the southern end o’ the lake, the land is much flatter.” Hearing the sound of approaching hooves, she looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over her.

The rider, who was slowing his horse down to a trot and then a walk, was Rán. He offered the two a friendly smile. “Lady Baylee, Master Ori…I am surprised to see the two of you out here.”

“We’re helpin’ my uncle pick medicinal flowers,” Baylee explained. She then looked around, both for her uncle and the other rangers. “Where are the other rangers?” she asked.

“In all directions,” he replied. “We each picked a direction and rode for two hours, scouting out the areas along the way. It is one of our methods for looking over large areas of land. When we reunite, we will discuss how useful it was in terrain such as this.”

The two nodded in understanding. “That’s a good way t’ see if there are any enemies nearby,” Ori commented. He poured his third batch of flowers into the sack. “It looks like we have enough now,” he told Baylee.

She gave the bag a small shake and nodded. “Aye, we do,” she smiled. Tying the sack shut, she glanced back at Rán; she had to agree with Wenna: He _was_ very handsome. “So, I take it that you went south-east from here? Or plain east?”

“Plain east,” he said, watching as she went to tie the sack to her saddlebag. His brow rose slightly as he caught a glint of metal under the leather bag. Was that…a sword? Why would a woman such as herself have a sword with her…? “Though, given the arms of the mountain, I had to return from the southeast, as the Lonely Mountain doesn’t yet have an eastern gate.”

“That’s because the eastern side o’ the mountain is where the mines are,” Ori explained. “Though, Thorin’s been thinking about the possibility o’ building a minor gate in that direction just in case the mountain’s ever put under siege again.”

He nodded in understanding, his head tilting somewhat as he watched Baylee mount her mare with an unusual amount of ease for someone of her size. “That would be a sound idea,” he said. “Not only would it provide a secondary escape route, but it would also allow those traveling from the Iron Hills a quicker entrance into the city.”

Leaning over, Baylee offered her hand to Ori and, when he took it, pulled him up into the saddle with her.

“…You…are very strong for an inn maiden, Lady Baylee,” Rán then said with a small chuckle. Being half dwarf himself, he knew dwarves weren’t the lightest of people. “But I suppose it is to be expected, given how heavy those platters of food must be.”

Her cheeks turned pink at his words and she chuckled. “Aye, they can get quite heavy at times—especially if you’re havin’ to carry them with just one hand.” Seeing her uncle finally come into view, she mentally sighed in relief; she had been beginning to wonder if he had hurt himself somehow. “Would you like t’ ride back with us? Or do you have a specific place you’re supposed t’ meet up at?”

“We are to meet at the inn,” he replied, “so I believe I will take your offer and ride along.” As Baylee clicked her tongue, her mare started off at a trot, so he gave a gentle kick to his stallion’s sides, starting him off at a trot as well.

Slightly looking down at Ori to make sure he was alright, Baylee frowned as she saw a small beetle crawling across his hair. “Ori, is it alright if I touch your hair?” she asked. “There’s a bug in it.”

He stiffened slightly, his nose scrunching up. “Y-yes, please get it out.”

Rán softly laughed. “You know dwarvish customs, then?” He should have figured she did, given how well she seemed to know the dwarves who were at the Full Tankard.

“A few, aye, though I’ve been learning more an’ more ever since Ori an’ the other lads started stayin’ at the inn.” Plucking the beetle up, she gave it a small toss into the grass. “Though, speakin’ o’ stays at inns, how have you an’ your rangers been enjoying your stay?”

“I can honestly say that your family’s inn is one of the nicest we have had the pleasure of staying at,” he told her. “The inns back in Dorwinion are completely different than yours.”

“Oh?” Her head tilted somewhat; she always enjoyed hearing about different life was in different places. “How so?”

“For one, we called them ‘hostels’. Instead of many separate rooms with one or two beds, they have large rooms with many, many beds. Usually, there is a room for males and another for females,” he began. “Some have private rooms for couples or those who don’t want to share a sleeping space. All hostels have communal kitchens where you are expected to do your own cooking—or, if the group staying there is friendly, everyone helps in making a large, shared meal. There is an attendant or two who make sure the rules are followed, but other than that, it there is no staff.”

Baylee’s brows furrowed. “But…who washes the bedding?”

Her question was both endearing and amusing to him; not many people he knew would wonder about such a trivial chore. “Many towns in Dorwinion have laundresses who come and collect the dirty bedding—and not just from the hostels, but from people’s houses, too—and are paid by the attendants. Others require the guests who used the bed to wash the bedding on their own prior to their departure.”

“That…sounds like a lot o’ work for a place where you’re supposed t’ rest,” Ori said with a small frown.

“It is because of that work that hostels charge less than an inn,” Rán admitted. “But I am quickly coming to learn that the extra gold is worth the luxury of extra rest.” He chuckled quietly, his brow rising as he looked at the two of them. “There _are_ a few inns like yours, though they are usually used by the upper classes who can afford them.”

She nodded in understanding. “Hm. That sounds interestin’…Will’s been t’ Dorwinion twice an’ stayed for a few weeks, but he never told me anything about where he stayed or what he did. He mostly just spoke of how warm it is there an’ how mint is used in a lot o’ dishes.”

“Mint? I thought that was only good for teas and soaps?” Ori questioned, his brow rising.

At that, Rán let out a slightly louder laugh. “I assure you, Master Ori, that mint is good for far more than just teas and soaps. It is one of our staple herbs and is used in many, many different kinds of dishes. It can be used in both savory and sweet applications. My favorite way to use mint, however, is when it is paired with chocolate.”

Baylee’s head tilted. “Chocolate…? What’s that?”

Ori gasped, his eyes widening as he turned in the saddle enough to stare at her in shock. “You’ve never had chocolate!?”

She shook her head. “Never even heard o’ it, to be honest.”

“It is a delicacy,” Rán told her. “Like mint, it can be used in savory and sweet applications, though it is mostly used in sweet things. Cakes, candies, breads…There is also a drink made with it called ‘hot chocolate’.”

“We have some chocolate in our shop!” Ori pipped up. “I’ll be sure to grab some for you when I go back t’ Erebor t’ get a bit more pocket money. It’s _really_ good.”

Rán cocked his head. “You have a shop?” he questioned.

“Well, it’s not so much _my_ shop as it is my eldest brother’s shop,” he explained, his cheeks turning a bit red. “But it’s a trading post that deals in luxury items from foreign lands. He’s got things all the way from the south of Gondor to the Red Mountains in the east. He’s even got ice wine from Järvamaa in the far north.”

“I must admit, I have never heard of such a place—nor have I heard of such a thing as ‘ice wine’,” Rán chuckled. “It certainly sounds interesting, though.” As they approached Richard, he gave the older man an acknowledging nod.

Returning the nod, Richard looked at his niece and smiled. “I see you got a bit of extra calendula,” he commented upon seeing the flower crown atop her head.

Her cheeks pinkened as she grinned. “Ori made it for me,” she chirped. “But we did manage t’ get you nearly a whole sack full o’ the flowers. Should be enough t’ get you half a bottle o’ calendula oil.”

“Good, good…that should be enough to last me until we get more in Laketown.” He brought his horse around to ride alongside Buttercup. “I got your father enough athelas t’ last him the year—should no one accidentally feed it t’ a pig or chicken.”

She snorted. “I doubt that’ll happen. He keeps it as safe—if not safer—than the gold the inn brings in.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, she looked up at the city. They were still a good half an hour’s ride from the eastern gate. ‘We should be back with plenty of time before the dinner rush,’ she thought.

“What is athelas?” Rán question. “I take it that it is some sort of herb?”

“You might know it under the name ‘kingsfoil’,” Richard explained. “Athelas is its ancient name.”

Rán shook his head. “I have never heard of such an herb. Perhaps it is not suited to the climate of Dorwinion?”

“It grows in Gondor, which is _much_ warmer than up here,” Richard said, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Curious…I thought it grew in most place?”

It was Baylee’s turn to shake her head. “No. Athelas was brought t’ mainland Middle Earth by the Númenóreans,” she explained, “an’ they didn’t go very far t’ the east. They stuck to the north an’ to Gondor.”

The three males looked at her in a mixture of surprise and fascination.

“How do you know that?” Ori questioned, turning to look at her once more. “I’ve heard o’ the Númenóreans before, but only in a book…”

“I have never heard of such a people,” Rán admitted.

Her cheeks grew red and she felt a bit confused; did they really not know of the Númenóreans, who were such an immense part of Middle Earth’s history? “Da’ told me an’ Will all about them when we were younger,” she said. “They were descendants o’ the Edain who dwelt on the island o’ Númenor before its fall. It was the Númenóreans who founded Gondor an’ the ancient realm o’ Arnor.”

“Who were the Edain?” Ori questioned.

“The First Men—the very first humans who awoke an’ walked on Middle Earth.” She rubbed the side of her neck. “The Númenóreans are the reason there aren’t many forests left in Middle Earth…one o’ their kings was greedy an’ had his men chop down all the trees in order t’ build a fleet o’ ships.”

Richard nodded slowly, though there was a bit of skepticism in his expression—he was a healer, after all, and not a historian. “Interesting,” he murmured. “He’s never mentioned the Númenóreans around me.”

“I have a vague recollection of learning about an ancient, seafaring people when I was _much_ younger,” Rán said. “Perhaps they are the same as these Númenóreans you speak of?”

“Maybe,” she said, though now she sounded a bit uncertain. ‘Now I’m starting to wonder if they’re an actual people or if papa made up a _very_ intricate people for a fairytale,’ she thought. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him; he’s always been a great storyteller…Maybe I’ll ask him about it later, when I go to ask about visiting Laketown…? That sounds like a good plan…’

Nearly an hour later found Baylee and Rán in the stables of the Full Tankard, both of them brushing their horses down. Upon arrival, Rán discovered that he was the last of the rangers to return—something he had expected, given that he had slowed his pace a great deal in order to ride along Baylee and Richard. Once dismounted, Ori headed into the inn and Peter, knowing that Richard was itching to go prepare his bundles of flowers, took his horse into the stables for him.

“It was these Númenóreans who were the ones to essentially settle the western lands of Middle Earth?” Rán asked, running the brush along his stallion’s neck.

“Yes an’ no. There were already groups o’ people living over here, but thanks t’ the evil in the land, they tried t’ isolate themselves in order to stay safe,” Baylee explained. She leaned back slightly as Buttercup shook her head. “Because o’ that, they were still fairly—primitive, I think, was the word papa used? When the Númenóreans came, they helped drive the evil out o’ the land and helped the people learn farming an’ the like.”

“And what became of their descendants?”

“They became the Dúnedain o’ Arnor an’ the Dúnedain o’ Gondor.” Patting Buttercup’s neck, she moved to leave the stall, closing the gate behind her. “Gondor still thrives, but Arnor is little more than a handful o’ villages scattered across the northern lands west o’ the Misty Mountains.”

Rán glanced over his shoulder at her, watching as she went into the storage stall to return the brush. He was more than a little impressed by her knowledge on this subject and how she explained it in such an easy to understand way. “How did your father come to learn all of this?”

She shrugged. “From what he told me an’ Will, it was his father who told it t’ him. Da’ said this was important history that we should know, lest it be forgotten.”

“I take it, then, that the people of Dale are descendants of the Númenóreans?” Finished with brushing his stallion, he, too, left the stall and closed the gate behind him.

“Actually, no. We’re considered Northmen; we’re descendants o’ the humans who never crossed the Misty Mountains.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. “I wish the bits of history I had learned as a child were as fascinating as the history you learned, let alone taught by such an interesting person,” he chuckled, walking alongside her as they left the building. As he stole a glance at her, he found that her cheeks had grown pink. “What I did learn was mostly about my mother’s people…even then, I did not find it very interesting.”

“Was your mother the dwarf, then?” she asked, her head cocked slightly.

“Yes, she was. She was a Stonefoot—a clan who dwell in the northern half of the Red Mountains.”

She thought for a moment. “Stonefoots…they’re the ones who have the best endurance out o’ all the dwarves, right?”

Rán let out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by her knowledge. “Yes, they are!” he told her. “And how did you come to learn that? Did the masters tell you about the clans?”

A smile came to her lips and Rán suddenly found himself thankful that he didn’t blush easily. He had found Baylee quite pretty (though the other rangers didn’t understand why, as they found her to be plain), but with the flower crown atop her head, he thought she looked utterly lovely.

“Aye, they have. Bifur an’ Ori are t’ blame for those lessons while Bofur an’ Nori have been instructin’ me on the art o’ dish tossing,” she chuckled. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she looked over at the archway in time to see Bifur, Bofur, and Will entering the courtyard. “Well, speak o’ the devils!”

The three males smiled and waved as they saw her.

“Looks like ‘Lee’s been crowned queen o’ the marigolds,” Will joked. “I take it that means the flower huntin’ you an’ uncle did was successful?”

“Aye. We found an abundance o’ all the flowers he needed.” Her brow rose and, standing on tiptoe, she brushed some woodchips off his shoulder. “What were you buildin’ today?”

“Oh, nothing too important. Just some cabinet doors,” he told her. “I’m waitin’ on a shipment o’ boards before I begin work on the upstairs flooring.”

“The lad managed t’ get four cabinet doors whipped up in less than two hours,” Bifur told them, sounding impressed. “An’ that’s _with_ forgetting his planer here! I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get wood that smooth without a plane.”

Will’s cheeks turned a bit pink and he smiled sheepishly. “Bifur’s exaggerating. I’m sure it took me longer than two hours.”

Bofur shook his head, wearing a large smile. “Don’t be humble, lad—you’re quite fast with those chisels o’ yours.”

Rán looked up at him. “So you are a carpenter, then?”

“A woodworker in general,” Will told him. “I’ve been helpin’ these two renovate their shop.”

He nodded in understanding. “What sort of shop, if you do not mind my asking?”

“A toy shop,” the cousins replied in unison.

“We’ll be the first one in Dale, which used t’ be renowned throughout Middle Earth for its toys,” Bofur explained, looking up at the half-dwarf. “So we’re hopin’ some competition comes along soon to help bring back its reputation.” His brow rose ever so slightly; Rán kept stealing quick glances at Baylee, which, for some reason, made his stomach lurch slightly.

Rán once again nodded. “I was not aware of Dale’s historic reputation,” he admitted, “but with how it is flourishing now, I am sure that reputation will return with your help.”

As he spoke, Baylee leaned over slightly to look past her brother and the dwarves. Seeing a group of people walking towards the inn, she gave the males an apologetic look. “I see a group o’ customers comin’, so I best be headin’ in now. Is there anythin’ I can get you lads t’ drink or eat…?”

“Some tea would be nice,” Rán answered. “Preferably that berry one you served at breakfast.”

“Cider, if you would, lass,” Bifur told her. “An’ maybe some bread an’ cheese?

“Go ahead an’ add extra bread an’ cheese t’ that plate,” Bofur smiled. “An’ I’ll have an ale.”

Reaching down, Will lightly ruffled his sister’s hair, doing his best to not disturb her flower crown. “Don’t worry about the ale an’ cider, ‘Lee, I’ll handle those. You get the tea an’ snacks.”

Smiling, she nodded. “Alright. See you lads in a bit.” Rather than heading in through the front door, she headed to the back of the courtyard, intending to enter through the kitchen.

Bofur looked up at Will as the group headed for the door. “So, how are we supposed t’ get that window box actually on her window without her knowin’?”

His brow rising at the strange question, Rán opened the door for the others.

Thanking the ranger, Will headed into the inn. “There’s a tree that grows below our windows. We climb up, I put you on my shoulders so you can put it in place,” he said. “ _Or_ , we could do it the somewhat easier way an’ get da’ in on it. He can send her t’ the market for a while so we can put it in.”

“That second option sounds much safer,” Bifur told him. “Call me old, but I’d rather the two o’ you _not_ accidentally topple t’ your deaths just for some flowers.”

Bofur snorted. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be our _deaths_ ,” he chuckled.

“Well…the tree is pretty tall,” Will admitted. “So death _is_ a possibility if we were t’ fall. An’, frankly, it’s not really a chance I’m willing t’ take.” He watched as Rán walked over to the table where the rest of the rangers were already gathered.

Bifur shook his head, half sighing, half chuckling as Will went behind the bar. “ _Now_ you’re talkin’ sense, lad,” he told him. “Now, if it had been left up t’ my cousin here, he would have gladly chosen to use the tree method.”

A small pout came to Bofur’s face and he put his hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know I was just joshin’ about actually usin’ the tree!”

“Mhm. Says the dwarrow who scaled a fifty-foot wall in order t’ sneak a kiss from a lass,” he reminded him.

Will’s brows rose; he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or remain awestruck. “You did _what_?” he gawked. He grabbed a set of three mugs, moving to fill them.

Bofur’s cheeks turned bright red and he became flustered. “That was a long time ago, when I was only in my eighties,” he stated. “…An’ I may have been a wee bit intoxicated at the time.”

Bifur shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “ _How_ you managed t’ get back down without killing yourself is still beyond me…Mahal must’ve _really_ been on your side that day.”

“Aye, he must’ve—it would have been so easy for Kaia t’ just give me a wee push an’ down I would’ve went,” Bofur chuckled, rubbing the side of his neck. “Though, I daresay puttin’ in a window box while sober is a _teensy_ bit safer.” As he said ‘teensy’, he had held his fingers close together for emphasis.

Will wanted to ask him who Kaia was, but as he turned around to hand the dwarf his ale, he saw sadness in his eyes. The expression caught him very much off guard; he had never seen anything but happiness and amusement on him until then. ‘She was obviously his love at some point,’ he told himself, setting the mug down on the counter. ‘But was she his lover, his wife, or just the object of his affections? But if she was any of those, why does Bofur seem to be flirting with Baylee? Dwarves only fall in love once…’

“Will, lad? You alright?”

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts to see Bifur and Bofur both looking at him with concern. His cheeks turned a bit red and he smiled sheepishly. “Aye, sorry. Got a wee bit lost in my thoughts there,” he said. “What’d you say?”

“I asked when would be a good time t’ bring the window box over,” Bofur repeated. “Since it’s all done an’ the flowers are planted…”

“Good question.” He wore a thoughtful expression as he turned to fill another mug. “Let’s wait until the flowers bloom—it shouldn’t be too long. A week or two, maybe. Also gives me time to come up with a good excuse to get Baylee out of here for a few hours.”

Bofur nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” he grinned. He glanced over at the kitchen in time to see Baylee come out with a platter containing a bowl of bread, a plate of cheese, a teapot, and a clay mug. A small smile came to his lips; she still wore the flower crown, which he thought made her look positively beautiful. Realizing he was staring, however, he pulled himself from his thoughts and grabbed the tankard of ale as Will held it out to him. “Thanks, lad,” he chirped.

As he took a drink from the mug, he started to walk towards the usual table. ‘Now don’t you go staring at Miss Baylee like that, Bofur,’ he scolded himself. ‘Aye, she’s beautiful, but that’s no reason to be staring at her like Nori when he sees a shiny object…’ 

~*~

Warren looked up as there was a knock on his bedroom door. It was late—almost midnight—so he was more than a little surprised that someone was still up. “Come in,” he called, marking the page in his book before setting it aside.

The door opened and Baylee poked her head in. “What’re you still doing up, papa?” she questioned, concern on her face.

His brow rose and he chuckled. “I was just about t’ ask you the same thing, little one.” Turning in his chair, he faced her only to find that she was still fully dressed in her day clothes instead of her night clothes. “It’s late, ‘Lee. You should be in bed.”

An apologetic smile came to her lips. “Wenna an’ me lost track o’ time as we cleaned up the common room,” she explained. “We were talkin’ with Rán and Aizik as we cleaned.”

That made him frown and his eyes widened. “Wenna was still here at this hour!?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry: Aizik walked her to her home t’ make sure she got there safely. He’s back an’ up in his room now.”

A relieved sigh left his mouth and he leaned back against his chair. “Good…For a moment, I thought you were going t’ tell me that you had grabbed your sword and walked Wenna home yourself.”

“As tempted as I was t’ do that, I know better,” she snorted. “But, speakin’ o’ swords…I wanted to ask you somethin’, papa.”

One again, his brow rose. “…I’m not sure I’m going t’ like this.”

“Oh, it’s not _that_ bad, papa,” she frowned. “Uncle invited me t’ go with him to—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me—”

“Because I know you were goin’ to say ‘Laketown’,” he retorted. “Baylee, love, you _know_ about those raider attacks. Do you honestly think I’m goin’ to let you travel beyond the fields if there’s even the slightest chance o’ you getting attacked?”

“But we’ll be traveling with Prince Fili—there’s going t’ be a _lot_ more security with that group o’ travelers than with a normal group o’ merchants,” she argued. “On top o’ that, I know how t’ fight.”

“You haven’t fought or sparred in _years,_ ‘Lee,” he sternly reminded her. A sigh left his mouth and he rubbed his face in a mixture of tiredness and frustration; Baylee was stubborn and he knew she’d do anything to go on this trip. It had been a number of years since she last got to visit their family in Laketown, whereas he and Will had visited just last year.

After some minutes passed, a second sigh—this one of defeat—left his mouth. “I’ll make a deal with you, ‘Lee,” he said. “I want you t’ spar every day until you leave for the trip. Get the rust on your muscles ground away so you’ll be in tiptop shape.”

She nodded, a grin beginning to spread across her lips. “Easy enough. Auntie’s been wantin’ to spar lately an’ I’m sure Will wouldn’t mind bringin’ out his flail once in a while.”

“ _Also_ ,” he continued, “there’s something I need you t’ start doing.”

At that, her grin faltered slightly; she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say. “…An’ that is…?”

Warren gave her a knowing look. “I want you t’ start lookin’ for a beau.”

Rolling her eyes, she slouched somewhat. “Da’,” she groaned, drawing the word out. “You know—”

“Aye, I know you’ve tried lookin’, but ‘Lee: You an’ Will will be turnin’ thirty this year; most folk around your age are already married with families.” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “An’ don’t go thinking I’m picking on you because you’re my daughter—I’ve been planning on giving Will this same sort o’ talk.” He let out a heavy sigh. “If it were up t’ me, I’d let you two take your time, but…it’s actually been your aunt who’s been pressuring me t’ pressure you two. An’ you know how…well, frankly, annoyin’ she can be in regards t’ this subject.”

At that, Baylee slouched a bit more and glanced away from Warren. “Oh. That explains it.” As much as she loved her aunt, she knew full well that Demelza was a woman who wanted to keep up appearances. She and Éolynna had come from a poorer family, so when the inn started to bring in more money than expected and made them rise through the ranks of society, she wanted to make sure people _knew_ they weren’t poor.

And, annoyingly, that meant getting her and Will married off to (hopefully) wealthy families.

He nodded. “Yes…she scolded me the other day, actually. Reminded me how all her children are already married with families while the two o’ you are still runnin’ around, single as can be.” He shook his head, sighing quietly. “You know…Bard still fancies you quite a bit.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“’Lee—”

“Papa, our lives are unsuited for courtin’ now,” she said, ignoring his protest. “He’s a _king_ —he has his royal duties he has t’ attend to, which keep him fairly busy. An’ I work here at the inn, so I’m busy a good portion o’ the time.” She then shrugged, hugging herself. “Anyway… _If_ we did court an’ _if_ it progressed t’ marriage, I wouldn’t make a good queen.”

Warren frowned at that. “And just _what_ makes you think that, young lady?” he scolded.

She gave him a bland look. “No one wants a queen who can’t read an’ who doesn’t even know the slightest bit ‘bout how to be a queen.”

“Do you think Bard knew how to be a king when he was crowned?” he questioned, brow raised.

“Papa…this is _Bard_ we’re talkin’ about. O’ course he knew how to be a king—his father an’ his father’s father made sure o’ that.”

His frown grew slightly; he knew she was right. Bard was a descendant of the last king of Dale, and his family made sure to instill the same values and knowledge in every child that was born into it on the off chance that they would someday rule again.

“Anyway…I’m fairly certain I don’t have romantic feelings for him anymore,” she continued with a sigh. “Aye, I still love him dearly, but as a friend. Bein’ around him doesn’t make me all fluttery or giddy like it used to, so…aye, I don’t think there’s any romantic love for him left in my heart.” She gave her father a half-hearted smile. “I’ll find someone someday, papa. But I’m not goin’ to go forcin’ myself to marry someone just because auntie thinks I should have popped out half a dozen children by now. Whoever I end up marryin’, I’m going to marry them for love.”

Warren smiled at her words before holding his arm out, signaling that he wanted a hug. “You’re such a stubborn lass, little one,” he chuckled as she came over and hugged him. “I still want you t’ keep your eye open for a potential lad, but you don’t have t’ actively seek one out.”

“So I _can_ go t’ Laketown?”

“Aye, you can—but only if you spar every day like I said.”

She grinned, giving him an extra squeeze. “Aye, I’ll be sure t’ do that.”

Tousling her hair with his free hand, he smiled. “I know you will.” He gave her a little squeeze before releasing her. “Now get t’ bed, young lady. It’s late.”

Nodding, she headed for the door. As she reached the doorway, however, she paused and turned slightly. “…I have one more question before I go t’ bed.”

“Oh?”

“…What if I end up fallin’ for a dwarf?” she asked. “I’m not sayin’ I _have_ , o’ course, but…After gettin’ to know the lads, I’ve been wonderin’ lately if, maybe, I should start lookin’ a little closer t’ Erebor.”

Warren was silent for a moment as he thought over her words. He knew dwarven culture far better than either of his children and knew that most dwarves were against the idea of marrying a non-dwarf. ‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘that usually pertains to their dislike of elves. Lovisa’s father was all too happy to have been married to a human woman…and I remember a few dwarrows who had taken humans spouses over in Ered Luin.’ Stroking his beard, he leaned back in his seat, a contemplative look on his face. ‘Male dwarrows do treat their lovers like royalty, so if Baylee _did_ fall for one and one fell for her, I could rest assured that she would be well cared for…’

Baylee grew a bit concerned at her father’s long silence. “Papa…? Is everything alright?”

He looked up, a smile on his lips. “Yes, everything’s alright, little one,” he assured her. “If ever you fell for a dwarrow an’ he for you, then you best ready yourself t’ be treated like a queen. Dwarrows spoil their lovers—to them, their lover is their world an’ is more precious t’ them than any jewel or bit o’ mithril.”

She chuckled, her brow rising somewhat; she doubted that dwarves spoiled their lovers _that_ much. “Alright. I’ll be sure t’ keep that in mind _if_ such a thing happens,” she told him, smiling. “Goodnight, papa.”

“Goodnight, little one.”

~*~

Standing on his tiptoes, Will peeked over an unkempt garden wall, peering through the darkness to see if there was anyone on the other side. Seeing that there wasn’t, he pushed open the gate before closing it again. As he came out from the shadow cast by the abandoned house, he was bathed in the light of a nearly-full moon.

‘I hope she got my message,’ he thought, moving to sit on the edge of an old fountain. ‘And that she was able to find an opportunity to sneak away…’ With a sigh, he laid down, his hands tucked behind his head as he looked up at the moon and stars. ‘It’s been awhile since either of us have managed to see each other. Not that either of us has really had time. Between the both of us working long days, we’re just too tired most nights to sneak away…’

Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh. The night was a bit on the cold side, but with mid-spring quickly approaching, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be wishing for this cooler weather. Dale didn’t get nearly as warm as Laketown, but with all the festivals that happened during the summer, he knew he’d be working up a sweat while dancing.

With his eyes shut, he didn’t see the figure approaching from the shadows, nor did he see the playful smile on her lips. She crept towards him, being sure to stay as quiet as possible so as to not alert him of her presence. Then, leaning over, she pressed her lips against his.

His body tensed up and his eyes shot open only to find the face of his love overtop him. Instantly, he relaxed and, grinning against her lips, reached a hand up to rest on her cheek.

“A lover’s kiss has awoken the sleepin’ beauty, I see,” Adela quietly laughed. She pulled back slightly, allowing Will to sit upright.

“Ah, but I wasn’t sleepin’,” he smiled, watching as she tucked a gingery curl behind her ear. Once he was sitting up, he patted his lap for her to sit. “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she carefully sat down on his lap before kissing his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too, love,” she murmured. “How’ve you been? I’ve seen that the shop you’re restorin’ is comin’ along nicely.”

He grinned broadly, his arms wrapping around her in return. “Aye, it is! In fact, it’ll be ready t’ open in about two weeks.” Using his nose to nuzzle her cheek, he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest as she giggled. “And I’ve been well. Mostly workin’…The night we had that storm, Bard came over with Sigrid, Bain, an’ a whole group o’ rangers from Dorwinion.”

“Ooh, I’ve been hearin’ about them! Primrose has been gushin’ about how handsome the men are an’ how lovely the women are.”

“I suppose they’re alright. I know most o’ the womenfolk have been going into a tizzy over Rán, their leader, an’ Nakara, his second-in-command. Not sure what the menfolk think o’ Ashailyn, Kreine, an’ Fifika, though. Bein’ that I mostly talk with dwarves these days, they think the lasses don’t have enough facial hair.”

Adela giggled again, her brow rising. “I’m sure if they’re as lovely as I keep hearin’, then even a dwarf might cave in.”

Will shook his head, still wearing his grin. “Nah…Bofur an’ Bifur have told me they find the lasses just ‘decent’. _However_ , there is one beardless lass that’s seemed t’ have caught a dwarf’s eye.” As he looked down at her, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise and her jaw fell a bit slack. “One o’ the dwarves fancies Baylee?” she gasped. When Will nodded, she also grinned. “Ooh, which one? The younger one—Ori, I think you said his name was?”

“Aye, Ori’s his name, but he’s not the one,” he chuckled. “Bofur’s the one startin’ to fancy her—at least, I’m pretty sure he’s startin’ to fancy her.”

“Bofur…which one is he again?”

“The one with the hat.”

“Oh! Him! I’ve seen him around town a few times while I was out runnin’ errands. I’ve always thought he was adorable.”

Will couldn’t help but snort. “Sorry,” he told her, “but hearin’ someone call him adorable is a wee bit hilarious t’ me.” Tilting his head, he kissed her temple.

“Well, ‘adorable’ also isn’t a word you hear used very often t’ describe a dwarf in general,” she smiled. Closing her eyes, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. “If anythin’ happens between him and your sister, I think they’d make for a sweet couple. He looks like the sort who’d be a complete and utter sweetheart—like you, only fuzzier.”

Despite rolling his eyes, he smiled as well. “I think they’d be a perfect couple…Bofur’s managed t’ make her laugh so hard, she nearly toppled over an’ vice versa.” A content sigh left his mouth as he let his fingers start to run through her curls. “How’ve you been, by the way?”

“Mmm…Let’s not talk about that.” Her tone had gone from content to a bit depressed.

He frowned. “I take it your dad’s still bein’ an arse?”

“When isn’t he?” she sighed, knowing that it would be impossible to avoid the subject. “Mum finally divorced him a week or so ago. An’ as soon as it was finalized, she was out o’ there. But because she’s gone, I’ve been havin’ to do nearly double the work, since the lass dad hired t’ take her place is still fairly new t’ the job.”

“You should just leave, too, you know. He doesn’t treat you right. He never has.”

A quiet sigh left her mouth. “I can’t do that, Will. You know I can’t.” Leaning back slightly, she kissed his cheek before slipping off his lap. “At this point, I’m all he has anymore. Mum’s family never liked him an’ he has no family on his side…An’ he already disowned Ned. I know the situation isn’t ideal, but…” Standing up, she hopped up onto the fountain wall and started to follow the narrow path; she had to hold part of her dress up in order to see where she was putting her feet.

“That doesn’t mean you have t’ stay, love,” he told her, standing up as well. He followed along behind her, wanting to catch her in case she lost her balance; it was also, admittedly, a good chance for him to steal some long looks at her ample curves. “Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean a thing. If he’s not treatin’ you right, you shouldn’t stay there.”

“He’s not always bad, you know,” she sighed. “It’s only when he’s stressed…or when he’s been drinkin’ with his friends. An’ it’s not like he’s ever _physically_ mean. It’s always just words.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t matter t’ me. That’s not how a man’s supposed t’ treat his family. It’s his job t’ love an’ protect them—not t’ yell at them an’ berate them when he’s drunk.”

Adela glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips. “Which is why, someday, you’re goin’ t’ be an _excellent_ father t’ our children,” she told him. “You were raised by a good man.” She held out her hand, letting Will take hold of it before hopping down off the ledge. A teasing smile spread across her lips as she saw how dark his cheeks had grown. “Why are you blushing so hard, love?”

“N-No reason,” he said, glancing away. “I…I guess the thought o’ us having children someday kind o’ took me a wee bit by surprise.” His eyes widened and he was pulled down slightly as Adela wrapped her arms around his neck.

She gently rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “I’ll have no other man father my future children,” she told him, her voice soft. Cupping the scarred half of his face, she let her thumb gently stroke the skin. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, William Braddock, an’ I have every intention of becomin’ your wife an’ spending the rest o’ our days together.” She could feel the heat growing more intense in his cheeks, which only made her smile more.

“I love you, too,” he quietly chuckled, tilting his head down so that his forehead rested against hers. “An’ I promise you, Adela Stove, that I’ll soon whisk you away from that inn an’ make you my wife.”


	12. Chapter 12

“A little t’ the left—a little more—Aye! Right here!”

Bofur grunted as he, Bifur, and Will set the bathtub down on the bed of a cart. The cousins had decided to keep the tub instead of getting a new one, but not in the condition it was in. As such, they were sending it off to Erebor to be shortened and refinished.

Will panted, using his forearm to wipe some sweat from his forehead. “I never knew a copper tub t’ be that heavy,” he said.

Bifur knocked against the metal with his knuckle. “That’s because this is just copper _plated_ ,” he sighed. “My guess is the thing’s actually cast iron, but was plated with the copper t’ keep the bathwater from rustin’ the iron.”

“Why make a bathtub out o’ cast iron only to cover it with copper?” He reached a hand out, helping Bifur down from the cart. “That doesn’t make much sense t’ me.”

“Iron holds heat better than copper, so my guess is that they did it t’ take longer baths,” Bofur chuckled. “We already knew this placed belonged t’ a wealthier family, so they could afford the luxury o’ lazing about in the tub.” Shaking his head, he hopped off of the cart as well. “I don’t think either o’ us is going to be doin’ much o’ that, but I can see it being a nice perk come winter.”

Bifur let out a laugh, his brow rising somewhat. “Aye, that’d be a nice thing in winter…Until we need t’ get _out_ o’ the bath an’ end up freezing our arses off.” He watched as Bofur walked around to the front of the cart, where both their ponies stood, harnessed and ready to go. “Don’t forget t’ stop by the mansion t’ grab our toymakin’ supplies.”

Bofur nodded. “No worries, cousin. I’ll do my best to get back before midafternoon, but you know how our badgers are.”

“Badgers?” Will questioned.

“It’s what we call Bombur’s children,” Bifur explained. “I’m…not really sure I remember how the nickname came about, but it’s stuck.”

“You’d think we call them our wee squirrels, since every one o’ them has red hair, but ‘wee squirrels’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it as ‘wee badgers’,” Bofur laughed. He then crawled up into the driver’s seat of the cart. “I’ll see you lads later today. Try not t’ get into too much trouble while I’m off!”

Will rolled his eyes, though he wore a grin. “Oh, aye. I’ll be sure t’ paint the town red as I measure an’ draw up plans for those shelves.”

“An’ I’ll get into a lot more trouble when I let the roofers in t’ retile the roof,” Bifur snorted. “You, though. You best have an absolutely borin’ time. Give all the badgers a hug for me an’ give Bombur an’ Gerdi my love, by the way.”

“Will do,” Bofur chirped, pulling his pipe out from under his vest. With a small flick of the reins, the ponies started off down the road.

As the two watched Bofur head down the hill, Bifur shook his head. “Ten silver says he gets distracted somehow an’ doesn’t come back until dinner.”

“Now that’s an unfair wager, given that you know him better than me,” Will laughed. Turning, he moved to head back inside the shop-in-progress. “But it does sound like somethin’ he’d do.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of leather cord. It had three marks embossed into it, each one exactly twelve inches apart from the other. Going over to the far wall, he started to measure from the floor to the ceiling.

Bifur would have offered to fetch him something to write the measurements down on, but he and Bofur had quickly come to learn that Will could remember numbers just as well as his older sister could remember meal orders. Instead, he moved to head upstairs, wanting to double check where the leaky parts of the roof had been. Every time he walked up the staircase, he found himself amazed that it was still in such good condition; Will had said that he didn’t even need to refinish it—it just needed a bit of polish on the handrail and it would be like brand new.

By the time he returned to the first floor, Will was in the kitchen, using a length of thin, straight metal to draw line on a large sheet of paper.

“…I’ll use mortise and tenon joints on this one,” he was murmuring to himself. “Dado joints for the shelves would be easiest, too…just slide them in and out…” All the while, he continued to draw lines on the paper.

As Bifur got closer, he could see that Will already had nearly a complete shelf design drawn out. It was the first time he actually saw him _drawing_ out the plans rather than reading them off of a set of already-made blueprints. Not wanting to interrupt him in his drawing, he instead moved to grab a broom before heading into the front of the shop. There wasn’t much for him to do, after all, since the rest of the work that needed done required professionals.

It was nearing noon when the there was a knock on the door. Upon opening it, he found four men standing on the other side; behind them was a cart filled with bright-red rooftiles, wood, and the tools they would need. He led them upstairs, where he first showed them where the leaks in the roof were located before showing them the door up to the roof.

“How do you think these look?” Will asked when Bifur entered the kitchen once again. He had five different sets of blueprints laid out, each one showing a different kind of shelving unit design. “I know, ultimately, we’ll need t’ wait for Bofur t’ get back before any designs are given the final approval, but a bit o’ feedback would be nice.”

Bifur’s brow rose as he picked up one of the pieces of paper. He had been drawn to it because the shelving unit, unlike the others, was designed to look like the trunk of a tree. It would be carved out of a single, large log and hollowed out to make the shelves. “I don’t think I’ve seen somethin’ like this before,” he commented.

Will’s cheeks turned a bit red; he couldn’t tell if that was meant in a good way or a bad way. “Aye…It was a bit random, but I remembered how Ori’s mural design had a set o’ trees in it. I thought it’d be kind o’ neat t’ have the trees’ trunks be a display unit an’ all the limbs are painted on the wall behind them.” A wave of relief washed over him as Bifur smiled.

“I like it. It’s touch o’ the whimsical that Bofur an’ me are hopin’ to achieve with the shop,” said Bifur. “An’ I’m sure Bofur will end up lovin’ it, too—he really wants this place t’ be whimsical an’ fun.” He set the design down in favor of picking up another one; this once was much more plain, but Will had made notes about carving animals into the edges of the shelves.

“Well, it _is_ a toyshop,” he chuckled. “It’d be a bit strange if it looked like just a plain shop.” He put one hand on his hip while the other ran over his hair. “You two are lucky you have so many ‘wee badgers’. I don’t think I would have been able t’ come up with these concepts on my own. I got so used t’ doing small repair work—it’s been years since I actually got t’ design things.”

Bifur smiled up at him. “Once this shop opens up an’ everyone sees the work you’ve done, I’m sure you’ll be gettin’ more orders for customized furniture than you can handle,” he assured him.

Will let out a small laugh, his brow rising. “Ah, I can only hope. But even if they don’t, at least I’ll have done enough woodworkin’ by then to keep me satiated for a while.”

“If anythin’, all this gives you practice for when you’ve found yourself a lass and have bairns of your own,” Bifur lightly teased.

His cheeks turned red once again, but he smiled. “That might take a while t’ happen,” he said. “I’ve got my eye on a lass an’ she has her eye on me, but her father an’ my father don’t exactly…like each other.”

“Which translates t’ they want t’ kill each other?”

“Pretty much.” He rubbed the side of his next. “His name’s Mannus Stover. He runs the Tankard’s top rival, The Flyin’ Hen…Before me an’ Baylee were born, Mannus was constantly tryin’ t’ win our mum from da’—he was obsessed with her. The git even tried to woo her after we were born an’ she an’ da’ were married.” He shook his head.

Bifur’s nose scrunched up. “He doesn’t sound like a pleasant man.”

“He’s not. He’s downright rotten.” A heavy sigh left his mouth and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What doesn’t help is that Baylee looks damn near identical t’ our mum—the only difference is mum was a foot taller an’ blonde. Because o’ that, we make sure she rarely has any errands over in that part o’ town. We don’t want the git tryin’ anything with her.”

He frowned. “Something tells me that, if he ever _did_ try anythin’, he’d quickly regret it.”

His words made Will smile. “Aye, he would—an’ not because o’ me an’ da’. Baylee can be quite feisty when she needs t’ be an’ she knows how t’ fight. She’d knock him upside the head an’ then start yelling at him in the middle o’ the street, I’m sure.” He shook his head again, chuckling. “But still. It’s safest if we just keep her away from that part o’ town.”

Bifur nodded slowly, his brow raised. “…Your sister knows how t’ fight? As in brawling or usin’ weapons?”

“Weapons.” Will’s cheeks turned a bit red and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Mum an’ auntie were shieldmaidens o’ Rohan an’ da’—well, he’s a smith, so he has t’ know how t’ use the weapons he makes. Oh, an’ Lovisa is a ranger. Between the four o’ them, me, ‘Lee, an’ our cousins all know how t’ fight.”

“That makes sense…I know most human cultures frown upon havin’ their women know how t’ fight, but the Rohirrim don’t seem to have as much o’ a problem with that.” He set the second set of blueprints down and sighed. “Can I ask you somethin’ a bit personal, lad?”

A knowing look came to Will’s face. “You want t’ know what happened t’ our mum.”

Bifur felt his cheeks begin to burn. “…Aye. I do hate t’ ask it o’ you, an’ I know it’s really none o’ my business, but ever since we learned that she’s not among the livin’ anymore, Bofur, Ori, an’ me have all been a bit curious.” He was unaware that Ori already knew how Éolynna had died, as the younger dwarf had kept it to himself.

Will shrugged, turning around to lean against the table. “I know it would have come up sooner or later,” he admitted. “Mum died in the Battle o’ Five Armies. She was the only woman t’ fall in that battle. Her, auntie, ‘Lee, Lovisa, an’ our cousins were defendin’ the great hall, where Bard had sent the women, children, an’ those unable to fight to hide. Because o’ them, the orcs didn’t even get close t’ the door.”

Bifur’s eyes widened slightly; he remembered hearing about a group of human females who had fought in the battle, but he would have never expected that _Baylee_ was one of them. “Wait—those were _your_ family members?”

“Aye. I know it’s a wee bit hard t’ picture ‘Lee fighting, but fight she did.” He gave Bifur a halfhearted smile. “Which is why I’m glad you asked _me_ an’ _not_ her ‘bout mum. ‘Lee’s memory is so good that she can remember things in perfect detail—an’ that includes our mum’s death.”

He cringed. “I take it tha’ she didn’t die cleanly…?”

He shook his head. “No. To make matters worse, Baylee was _right_ there when it happened.” He shuddered at the memory; though he had been fighting in another part of the city, he still swore to that day that he had heard his sister’s anguished scream. A sigh left his mouth. “Ah…If you end up tellin’ the others, could you also make sure t’ tell them not t’ bring any o’ this up with da’ or ‘Lee? They’re both still very…sensitive ‘bout the topic.”

“O’ course, lad. I know the feelin’ all too well,” Bifur said. “Though, the other day, I was an idiot an’ made the mistake o’ accidentally bringin’ up Bofur’s late fiancée.” He winced at the memory.

Will cocked his head. “Is that who Kaia was?”

“Aye. She was killed in a warg attack,” he explained. “Died right in Bofur’s arms…four days before their weddin’.” He watched as Will winced. “Took him damn near two decades to be able to just _hear_ her name without breaking down.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmured, his brows furrowed. “An’ here I was goin’ to ask if he ever planned on havin’ badgers o’ his own. Guess I know the answer now.”

Bifur cleared his throat. “Well, that has yet t’ be determined,” he said. “Sometimes, Mahal sees fit t’ rebuild our hearts for another—what we dwarves call a Second Chance. An’ I think Bofur may be one o’ those lucky few.”

Will’s brow slowly began to rise. “…You think Bofur’s fallin’ for someone?” he asked cautiously.

“I think he _might_ be, though with Bofur, it’s hard t’ tell until he’s fallen hard enough that he can’t get back up.” He then glanced up at the human, a curious look on his face. “Why? Have you noticed him bein’ any different?”

“Not so much acting different, no…but I have been noticin’ how he sometimes looks at my big sister with a bit o’ a dopey smile.” There was a broad grin on his lips, which took Bifur by surprise—normally, brothers weren’t very happy when they discovered someone was crushing on their sister. _Especially_ when their sister was human and the person crushing on them was a dwarf. “An’ I did hear him call her the prettiest sunflower he ever did see at one point.”

“I think you’re the first lad I’ve ever met who’s _happy_ t’ learn that someone has a crush on his sister,” Bifur chuckled, his brow cocked.

“My sister deserves someone who loves her an’ who makes her smile,” he said. “And I know enough about you dwarves to know that, if you start crushing on someone, there’s no going back—that person owns their heart for the rest o’ their lives. So, if Bofur _is_ starting t’ fall for Baylee…I know she’ll be well taken care of.”

~*~

“Bring your shield up higher!”

“Don’t shuffle your feet like that.”

“You’re leaving yourself too open when you attack.”

There was a loud thud and Baylee grunted as she fell backwards. Feeling dull metal lightly press against her throat, she scrunched her nose up and looked up, finding her aunt standing above her. She had a pair of axes in hand, a gambeson covering her torso, and a helmet atop her head. Her brow was raised as she looked down at her niece.

“You really are rusty, lass,” she said. Holstering her axes, she reached down and helped Baylee to her feet, who then set her shield down on the ground. “ _How_ long has it been since you last had a proper sparring session?”

Thankful her cheeks were already red from exertion, she glanced at Demelza. “A couple o’ years at least.” She wiped some sweat from her forehead with one hand, while she rested her weight on her sword hilt with the other. Like her aunt, she wore a gambeson and a helmet as protection; the weapons were dull, yes, but they could still hurt when they hit their targets.

A sigh left her aunt’s mouth. “I should have known when I saw the layer o’ dust that had accumulated on that scabbard.” Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a good thing your da’ is having you train up before that trip.” She then cocked her brow. “You ready for round three?”

“Not really, but I know that doesn’t matter,” she said with a small chuckle. Grabbing her shield once more, she slid it into place over her forearm. Then, grabbing her sword, she walked a few paces from Demelza before taking on a defensive stance. She watched as her aunt unholstered her axes and started to also take up a defensive stance—

Without warning, Demelza lunged forward. Baylee brought up her shield, blocking one of the axes while she used her sword to parry the other. She hopped to the side as her aunt swung at her again and thrust her shield forward into her, knocking Demelza off balance. Bringing her sword around, she thwacked her aunt in the side with the flat of the blade. Being a seasoned warrior, however, Demelza was able to quickly recover her footing.

Hooking the beard of her axe on the edge of Baylee’s shield, she yanked her forward. At least, that’s what she _tried_ to do. The second she had seen the axe coming, Baylee let go of the grip and let her arm slide through the strap. The shield landed with a clatter on the ground and she backed up a few paces.

“A bad idea, sweetie,” Demelza told her, her tone scolding. “You’re very vulnerable now.” As she spoke, she rushed at her niece.

“It was too heavy for me anyway.” Holding her sword with both hands now, she started blocking blows from her aunt. Whenever she thought she could get in a counter, she took it, but Demelza was able to block most of them.

Then, Baylee managed to wedge her sword under one of the axe beards and, with a sharp tug, brought the axe out of her aunt’s hand. Before it hit the ground, she reached out with her foot and was able to kick it upwards, allowing her to grab it. Demelza looked mildly impressed as she now took on the defense.

“That was tricky o’ you,” she grinned, starting to circle around Baylee in an effort to get to the fallen shield.

“I saw papa do it once to you,” Baylee replied, also grinning. As her aunt tried to circle her, she leapt forward, swinging her sword with the intent of using it as a feint.

But Demelza threw herself sideways, onto the ground. She rolled a few feet away before popping up again—right next to the shield. Grabbing it, she charged at her niece.

Baylee twirled out of the way just in time to avoid being bashed with the shield. As she spun, she brought the back of the ax down against the back of Demelza’s hip. Her aunt grunted, though she knew it wasn’t in pain.

Aunt and niece continued to dance around one another, exchanging blows and parrying when they could. It was this spectacle that greeted Bofur as he returned to the inn with his and Bifur’s ponies. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the two women battling.

Never in a hundred years would he have expected to see Baylee in armor, let alone fighting.

“You’re back earlier than I was expectin’.” He looked up to see Peter walking towards him.

“I thought I’d bring the ponies back before headin’ to the shop,” he explained, watching the women again. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“Ah, just Baylee an’ Demelza sparring,” Peter said with a small shrug. “Once in a while, they’ll dust off their weapons and fight one another. Sometimes it’s Demelza an’ Baylee, other times it’s Will an’ Demelza or Will an’ Warren…Doesn’t happen often, but the matches can be fun t’ watch.”

Bofur frowned slightly. “I figured she knew how t’ fight a wee bit, but I didn’t expect her t’ actually be any good with a weapon.”

Nodding in understanding, Peter chuckled. “T’ be honest, I didn’t expect it either. She’s such a small lass an’ she’s so sweet an’ cute, it’s hard t’ picture her in any sort o’ battle, even though she’s right there in armor.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Baylee half ducked, half spun out of the way as Demelza brought her ax down.

Bofur nodded, feeling a strange lurch in his gut as Peter called Baylee ‘cute’; for some reason, it just didn’t sit well with him. He shrugged it off, however, telling himself it was nothing.

The two watched as Baylee sidestepped to avoid being hit by Demelza’s attempt at a shield bash. It had been a feint, however, and Demelza used the distraction to sweep Baylee’s feet out from underneath her. She fell to the ground with a curse, feeling the wind get momentarily knocked from her lungs.

“That’s three losses in a row for you, sweetie,” Demelza said, holding her axe to Baylee’s throat. With an almost disappointed sigh, she holstered the weapon and helped her niece up once more. “You didn’t do _too_ bad, though. You clearly still remember _how_ t’ fight—it’s just gettin’ you back into fightin’ shape.” She gave her a small smile as she took her other axe back.

Unlike her aunt, who was hardly breathing any heavier than at the start of the match, Baylee was panting and her lungs burned slightly. “Good thing—good thing that trip’s ‘bout a month an’ a half away, then,” she wheezed, leaning forward to rest her hands against her thighs.

“Aye. That’ll be plenty o’ time to get you back in shape.” Looking up, Demelza saw Peter leading two ponies into the barn and Bofur walking towards them. “Looks like we had a small audience.” She set the shield down against Baylee’s leg so she would remember to grab it instead of accidentally leaving it in the middle of the courtyard.

Baylee felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and was once again thankful that they were already red. Lifting her head, she saw Bofur as well, though Peter was already back in the stables. She managed to give him a small smile.

“That was quite the show,” he chuckled, coming to a halt a few feet from them. “Not one I was at all expectin’ t’ see, but it was it was entertainin’ to say the least”

“We’re working on getting Baylee back into fighting shape,” Demelza explained. As she spoke, she undid the buckle of her helmet before pulling it off her head. Shaking her hair free, she let out a small sigh of relief; her helmet had encompassed almost the entirety of her head with the only open part being over her mouth and the eyeholes. Because of that, it had grown quite warm under the metal and its padding. “She’ll be joinin’ my husband and the others when they go down t’ Laketown. But Warren gave her the stipulation that she has t’ have sparrin’ lessons every day from now until then.”

“I’m really out o’ practice,” Baylee breathlessly chuckled. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt almost embarrassed that Bofur had seen her fighting. It confused her a bit—she didn’t used to be self-conscious about fighting, as much as she disliked it.

“Out o’ practice or not, it was still fun to watch,” he told her with a smile. Admittedly, he had been a bit worried for her safety; despite the precautions she and Demelza were taking, her aunt had _not_ been going easy on her. ‘Which is understandable,’ he thought. ‘If she were a beginner, Demelza would probably have gone a bit easier, but since she’s trying to get Baylee back into shape…Regardless, she should have gone a _bit_ easier on the poor lass.’

Standing upright, Baylee sheathed her sword and unbuckled the strap of her helmet. Unlike her aunt, her helmet was very much in the style of Dale and Laketown: The metal only covered the top of her head while a leather aventail lined with chainmail protected her neck. She stuck her tongue out as she pulled it off her head before bringing her forearm across her forehead.

Demelza patted her on the back. “Go ahead and take a breather before you come in, sweetie,” she gently told her. “It’s a while yet until the dinner rush will start anyway.”

Nodding, Baylee gave her aunt a small smile and watched as she walked away. “I wish she’d go a _wee_ bit easier on me,” she sighed once Demelza was out of hearing range.

Bofur gave her a pitying look. “I thought it looked like she wasn’t goin’ very easy on you,” he agreed. He took the helmet from her so she could take off the gambeson.

“Aye…Her thinkin’ is that, since I already know how t’ fight, the best way t’ get me back into shape is t’ _not_ go easy on me,” she explained, starting to undo the laces of the padded garment. “But, even when I was first learnin’, she didn’t go terribly easy on me—or Will or our cousins.”

“On the one hand, I can understand that, but on the other…Well…” He rubbed the side of his neck and chuckled somewhat awkwardly. “Let’s just say I could tell she left you some nasty bruises.”

At that, she snorted. “If you thought that round looked painful, be glad you weren’t here for the first two.” She pointed at a large dent on her helmet. “ _That_ wasn’t there an hour ago.”

His eyes widened slightly in horror; he did not enjoy knowing her aunt could strike that hard—not at all. “Wh-why is your aunt so hardcore when it comes t’ fighting? She does know she’s not tryin’ to _kill_ you, aye?”

“Auntie’s always been this way,” she told him. “At least, when it comes t’ fighting. With other things, she’s far more gentle, as I’m sure you’ve seen. Da’ likes t’ say it’s because sparring is the one way she can vent out any stress or anger she’s feeling without actually killin’ someone.” Getting the last set of laces undone, she pulled the gambeson off her body and let out a groan of relief. “Oh, that feels better…”

Taking the garment from her as well, he let her pick up the shield before he started to lead her over to the well so she could get a drink of water. As he sat her down on the well’s wall, he saw her wince slightly; he knew she was going to horribly sore come morning. “Makes me wonder if, should Dale come under attack again, she could defend it all by her lonesome,” he joked.

She breathlessly laughed as she leaned back against the support for the crank, letting the shield rest on the wall behind her. “Depends on how mad she is at the time,” she joked back. “How was your trip t’ Erebor, by the way?” She watched as he set her armor on the wall beside her before beginning to turn the crank. Normally, she would have argued against him doing this, since she was fully capable of reeling up the water bucket on her own, but her body ached too much at the moment.

“Uneventful,” he told her with a small smile. “Got the tub t’ the smith as well as placed an order for the glass an’ lead we’ll need for the new windows. Then went an’ dropped in to see my brother an’ his family. All o’ them pouted when they found out I didn’t bring more of your bread.”

Another laugh left her mouth and her brow rose. “Oh no…Should I start anticipatin’ havin’ to make extra whenever you or Bifur go back for a visit?” she teased.

He shrugged, a playful grin replacing the small smile. “Perhaps. Though, it’s lot better than havin’ them come t’ Dale an’ eat every single loaf you make for the day.” Getting the bucket up, he set it on the wall before dipping the attached ladle into the cold water. “Because that’s _exactly_ what would happen if I told them how t’ find this inn.”

She laughed again as she took the ladle. Thanking him, she started to sip the water; it felt like ice as it slid down her throat and made a shiver run down her spine. “From what you an’ the other lads have told me about them, I don’t doubt that one bit. Something tells me that Bombur an’ Gerdi would get along quite well with Galiene, however.” She took a few more sips of the water. “So a visit from them wouldn’t be _entirely_ bad, I don’t think.”

“Aye, it wouldn’t—especially since they make it a habit o’ bringing gifts o’ food with them when they visit folks. While they may eat up all your fruit bread an’ any other desserts layin’ around, they’ll at least bring a small feast with them t’ repay you.” His grin widened as she snorted.

“That does sound like quite the fair trade,” she giggled. “Especially since Ori an’ Nori have praised their cookin’ quite often.”

Nodding in agreement, he hooked his thumbs through his beltloops. “You don’t get t’ be the royal cook for no reason, after all,” he smiled. “Though, now that she’s got Edda, Gerdi’s more like the supervisor o’ the royal kitchen.”

“How is little Edda doin’, by the way? Well, I hope?” She glanced over at him as she filled the ladle a second time.

“Oh, aye. The wee cutie is just a ball o’ smiles! An’ her older sisters utterly adore her. They’re havin’ t’ keep a close eye on Sanna, though. She’s only five and thinks o’ Edda more as a doll than an actual baby.” He lightly shook his head as he chuckled. “Luckily, though, Grid knows better. The only thing is that she keeps tryin’ t’ braid Edda’s hair, but…she’s not very good at braiding just yet, so it turns into a bit o’ a mess.”

Giggling, Baylee’s brow rose. “Your nieces sound adorable.”

“Aye, they are…but I’m also quite biased. Though, I have admit that your niece is a wee cutie, too. Mischievous little thing, she is.”

“She certainly is—especially when her Uncle Will is tellin’ her an’ her brother where to find my stash o’ hard candies.” She giggled again and leaned her head back against the post.

“But despite her sugar rush, she was very still an’ patient while I taught her how t’ do that braid.” Taking off his hat, he scratched the top of his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child—human or dwarf—sit still that long to learn a _braid_ o’ all things.”

“Admittedly, I was quite surprised by that, too—well, actually, I was more surprised that she wanted you t’ teach her at all. She’s a very shy thing an’ it takes her a long while t’ warm up to people she doesn’t know.”

“I guess her determination t’ have upturned pigtails outweighed her shyness. Though, I’m surprised it wasn’t Nori she went t’ for braiding lessons.”

Baylee snorted, remembering how Sigrid had called Nori ‘pretty’. “I’m sure if she hadn’t seen your hair, she would have. I remember her sayin’ that he looked like a star an’ that he was very pretty.”

Bofur burst into a fit of laughter. “Did she really?” he laughed and, when Baylee nodded, he started to laugh harder. “Oh, Mahal help me—that’s just too sweet!” After a moment, he managed to regain _most_ of his composure. “Normally, Nori’s the type who folk are a wee bit scared of.” Reaching into his inner vest pocket, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco pouch. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Feel free. An’ really?” she asked, her head tilting somewhat. “He doesn’t seem at all scary t’ me. He seems a bit more reserved at times than the rest o’ you, but not scary.”

“Ah, you only think that because you haven’t seen his bad side.” Opening the tobacco pouch, he pulled out a pinch of the leaves and put them in the bowl of his pipe, using his thumb to tamp them down. “It doesn’t show very often, thankfully, but when it does, he can be mighty scary.” He added a few more leaves and tamped them down as well before holding the stem of his pipe between his teeth so he could light it.

“Sounds a bit like papa and Will.” From where she sat, she could catch a small whiff of his tobacco; its cherry scent still surprised her. “I’ve only seen papa truly angry twice in my life. Will I’ve seen angry a handful o’ times, but he wasn’t half as scary as da’ was.”

At that, Bofur frowned and his brow rose. Warren definitely seemed the type of man who was slow to anger, which was good, given his sheer size. “I’m afraid t’ ask, but what was it that set your da’ off?” Getting a small flame on the leaves, he sucked in a few times to turn the flame into embers.

“Both times, it was the same man: Mannus Stover. He owns the Flying Hen over in the southern part o’ the city; it’s the biggest rival t’ the Tankard. He an’ papa also absolutely _despise_ one another.” Bofur couldn’t help but find the fact that she still called Warren ‘papa’ endearing; most people grew out of that in their teens. “Mannus used t’ be obsessed with my mum. He was always tryin’ to woo her away from papa, despite him havin’ a wife an’ children o’ his own already.”

“Sounds like a right piece o’ work, he does.”

“Oh, he is…The first time I saw papa get angry, it was when Will an’ I were still little enough t’ be carried around. Mannus had dared t’ grab mum’s arm while she was carrying Will, which almost made her drop him.” Such an early memory would have taken him by surprise, but then he remembered how well she could recall things. “I don’t remember what all papa yelled at him, but I know it was enough to make the entire marketplace go silent.”

His frown grew slightly. “If I had a spouse an’ the same thing happened t’ her, I would have done more than just yell at the git.” As he spoke, smoke furled from his mouth. “Then again, we dwarves are fiercely protective o’ our lovers.”

“Papa came close t’ killin’ the git…but Mannus was friends with the old Master, so killin’ him would have almost certainly resulted in papa’s death, too, since the Master hated him.” She shook her head and pushed some hair from her face.

Bofur’s head tilted to the side. “Why did the Master hate him?”

Glad that he didn’t ask about the second time she had seen her father angry, she brought a knee up onto the wall, wrapping her arms around it. “Because papa supported Bard’s family. He always thought that it should have been them ruling the city an’ not the Master. It also didn’t help that papa’s intelligent. There’s so much he knew about the world that the Master didn’t.”

“So, basically, he was a threat t’ the Master’s rule?”

She nodded; as some of Bofur’s smoke wafted towards her, the cherry scent grew stronger and she closed her eyes, enjoying the smell. “Aye…Though, there’s no way papa would have challenged his rule. Now, if _Bard_ had challenged his rule sooner, papa would have definitely been his right-hand man.” She let out a soft laugh, though she could feel a familiar twitchiness beginning to grow in her fingertips. “Bard’s been tryin’ t’ get him to be his advisor for the last eight years.” With her eyes shut, she didn’t see Bofur’s brow rise.

“I would think bein’ the advisor t’ a king affords a person an’ his family a better life than being an innkeeper. No offense meant, o’ course!”

“None taken, because you’re right. But papa enjoys havin’ the inn. He gets t’ be around people more. And…well, t’ be honest, we’re not exactly very low on both the monetary an’ social ladders.” She quietly laughed. “We may not seem like it, but thanks t’ the Tankard, we’re actually among the gentry.”

“Doesn’t surprise me at all, if I’m honest,” he smiled. “This is a fairly popular inn, even durin’ the down seasons. I can only imagine how packed it’s goin’ to be once summer an’ autumn get here.”

Opening her eyes again, she smiled. “Aye. We usually have t’ hire on three or four more hosts an’ bring in another cook.” Glancing at the bowl of his pipe, she bit her lower lip slightly. “…This is goin’ t’ sound odd, but can I have a small puff o’ your pipe?” Her cheeks reddened a bit as she asked.

He blinked, pausing for a few seconds as he was taken by surprise. Then, chuckling, he handed it over to her. “I didn’t think you were the smokin’ type, lass.”

“I enjoy a pipe every once in a while—but I have t’ sneak it.” She took in a mouthful of the smoke before handing the pipe back. “Oh, that’s good tobacco. Where did you get it? An’ thank you, by the way.”

“Dori’s shop, actually,” he answered, amused. “It’s imported from the Shire; hobbits grow an’make some o’ the best pipe weed out there.” Taking in another mouthful himself, he leaned back once more. “Why do you have t’ sneak your smokes?”

An innocent smile came to her lips. “Will an’ papa don’t think it’s very ladylike o’ me t’ be smoking pipes. They think any potential suitors I may have will find it off puttin’.”

Bofur snorted, his brow rising. “Well, maybe you should start searchin’ for suitors in Erebor, lass. We dwarves would find it off puttin’ if you _didn’t_ smoke,” he joked. “An’ they’d be a little bit closer t’ you in height.” He grinned broadly as she cracked up.

She was about to tell him how having a dwarven suitor would also guarantee she’d get to be the tall one for once when she saw movement towards the archway. Leaning over slightly, she looked past Bofur only to see the rangers riding into the courtyard. “Ah, looks like I better head in soon,” she said instead. “With the rangers bein’ back, I don’t want t’ leave Wenna by her lonesome.”

“Why’s that? She can’t remember all their orders yet?” He looked back at Baylee as she slid off the wall.

“Well, there’s that, too,” she chuckled. “But the main reason is, despite her best efforts, she gets a wee bit flirty with them. Can’t blame her too much—they are fairly handsome blokes. But she shouldn’t be flirtin’ while workin’.”

Once more, Bofur felt his stomach lurch slightly as she called the rangers ‘handsome’ and it made him feel confused again. “I suppose they’re alright,” he said with a small shrug. “They’re a bit too tall for my tastes, though.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “O’ course they are,” she chuckled. “Would you like me t’ take a drink over t’ your table…?” She picked up her gambeson, helmet, and shield.

“An ale would be lovely, lass, thank you,” he told her. “I shouldn’t be too much longer—only got a few more puffs left in this.”

“Take your time,” she assured him with a smile. “I promise I won’t let anyone steal your ale.” She adjusted the shield on her arm before heading for the door. Usually, she would have gone in through the kitchen, but since she was carrying some fairly bulky items, she headed for the front door instead. ‘The last thing I want to do is to bump into Galiene or Gawen with the shield and make them cut or burn themselves,’ she thought.

She was just about to walk up the steps when a voice behind her stop her. “Lady Baylee?” As she turned, she saw that Rán and Ashailyn were only a few yards from her. Rán wore a bit of a concerned expression while Ashailyn looked more amused than anything.

“Hello, Rán, Ashailyn,” she said, giving them a friendly smile. “How did your patrols go?”

“Uneventful,” Ashailyn replied, “which is good. It is a nice change from what we are used to in Dorwinion.”

“May I ask as to why you look almost as if you have just returned from battle?” Rán asked.

“My aunt an’ me were sparring a little bit ago,” she explained.

Ashailyn’s brows rose slightly. “You fight, my lady?” she questioned. “No offense, but you do not have the appearance of a fighter.”

“That’s because I’m not. Aye, I know how t’ fight, but I much prefer t’ stay away from that kind o’ conflict,” she replied with a small chuckle. “I’m much more suited t’ servin’ people food an’ drinks. Thank you, Rán.” He had walked past her and opened the door, holding it for the two women. As such, they walked past him into the building.

As he let the door close behind them, Rán looked over the shield Baylee carried. It was dark green in color with a pair of white horse heads on either side of the bronze boss. The wood and paint were chipped from the many battles it had seen, but it still seemed to be in good condition. “I still would not have expected a woman of your status to know how to fight,” he admitted. “Not that it is a bad thing, of course—knowing how to defend oneself from potential enemies is always a good thing.”

“There’s a lot o’ warriors in my family,” Baylee chuckled. “They wanted t’ make sure Will, me, an’ our cousins could protect ourselves.” She set the shield and armor on the bar before going behind it and grabbing a tankard. “Can I get either o’ you something to drink?”

“A cider for both of us, please,” Ashailyn said. “Do you know only how to use a sword or are there other weapons you can wield?”

As she started to fill the tankard with ale, she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m alright with axes an’ spears, but absolutely crap with bows. I’d like t’ be able t’ use a morning star or a hammer, but that’ll never happen.” Looking back at the tankard, she started to taper the flow of ale until she had the tap closed. She set it aside and grabbed two more mugs for the ciders.

Rán couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image of a small thing like her using either a mace or a war hammer. “Yes…I am afraid you would need to become part dwarf or grow a few feet if you wished to use either of those with ease.”

“And neither o’ those is happening any time soon,” she laughed. With one mug full of cider, she set it on the counter; Rán motioned for his sister to take it. “But that’s fine with me. As I said, I much prefer servin’ food and drinks to people.” She started to fill the other mug with cider.

“Well, you are quite good at it,” Rán complimented.

Ashailyn nodded in agreement. “I do not think I have ever seen a person remember such large orders of food without forgetting at least _one_ thing.”

Baylee lightly shrugged as she closed the tap and turned around. “I’ve a strange memory,” she told them. As she handed the tankard off to Rán, she glanced at the door only to find Bofur coming in. “Bofur!”

He looked over in time to see her hold out a tankard in his direction. Grinning, he walked over and took it from her. “Ah, thank you, lass!”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, her cheeks ever so slightly pink. As he had taken the mug from her, his fingers had brushed against hers. “Would you like anythin’ else? Maybe a snack?”

“No, no thank you,” he replied. “Bombur made sure t’ fill me full o’ food before I came back here.”

“Alright then. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“Will do, lass.”

As he walked off, Baylee then turned back Rán and Ashailyn. “Is there anythin’ I can get either o’ you? Or maybe I can prepare some snacks for the others?”

“Bread and cheese sounds quite good about now,” Ashailyn said. “The whole table will take some of those.”

“And, perhaps, some of that fruit bread if there is any left?” Rán added with a small, hopeful smile. Inwardly, though, he felt off; he had seen her cheeks turn a bit pink when she handed Bofur his drink and it had made him feel a strong pang of jealousy.

Nodding, she smiled. “Aye, there should be plenty o’ that left. Anything else?”

“It is not food related, but Hunil, Nakara, and Fifika will be needing baths before dinner if possible,” Rán said.

Ashailyn grimaced. “Ah, yes…they may have gotten themselves into quite the dirty mess.”

Baylee cocked her head. “Oh?”

“When we broke for lunch, they had a small, three-way wrestling match,” Rán explained, “and…well, they tumbled down a hill into a mud pit.”

“Ooh…aye, that sounds quite messy.” She chuckled quietly. “They have spare clothing, aye? I ask because the day after tomorrow is laundry day an’ it’d be a shame if they had t’ wear dirty clothes until then.”

“There are laundresses in Dale?” asked Ashailyn, her brows furrowed somewhat in confusion. “I was not aware of this.”

“No, there are no laundresses. The inn staff have a laundry day for guests every two weeks,” Rán explained. “Miss Wenna told me about it the other day,” he then said to Baylee when he saw her surprised expression.

“Ahh, that explains it,” she said with a small laugh. She glanced over at the door again as the other rangers started to walk in. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get the breads an’ cheese ready for you lot.”

Rán gave her a small nod, watching as she headed off to the kitchen. Feeling his sister nudge him with her elbow, his brows furrowed somewhat in confusion. “What?” he asked, speaking in their native language.

“Careful, Rán,” she grinned, her brow cocked. “You’re starting to fall for the little hostess.”

His cheeks grew a bit warm. “And what makes you say that?”

“Plenty of things.” She took a drink of her cider and started to lead him over to their usual table. “You find her attractive; you find any excuse to speak with her; and you get jealous whenever that dwarf—” She nodded at Bofur, “—makes her blush…You’re falling for her and I think you’re falling hard.”

Cheeks growing a bit warmer, he followed her. “Even if I _am_ falling for her, what does it matter?”

“What does it matter?!” She laughed as she sat down. “Really, Rán? You’re going to ask _that_ sort of question when you already know the answer?” Shaking her head, she let out an amused sigh. “You need to start trying to win her heart before that dwarf does. He’s already got a head start—you’ve got some catching up to do.”

He grumbled quietly as he climbed onto his stool. Not wanting to acknowledge his sister’s words, he remained silent and took a drink of his cider. From the corner of his eye, however, he glanced over at Bofur.

Ashailyn was right, though: He _did_ have some catching up to do.


	13. Chapter 13

_The sounds of battle surrounded her._

_Baylee swallowed hard and raised her shield in time to block an orcish axe. Using the shield, she shoved the orc off balance and thrust her sword forward. The blade pushed through leather and flesh before it was stopped by bone. As she yanked the sword out of the orc’s lower abdomen—one of the few weak points she could reach at her height—the orc fell to its knees, holler in pain. With its neck now within reach, she stabbed the blade through its throat._

_She glanced around; the bodies of orcs littered the ground around them. She wasn’t couldn’t tell how many there were, but she knew it had to be over fifty. Maybe even seventy-five. None of them, she saw, were human or half-dwarf—that’s what mattered most._

_“Baylee! How’re you holding up?” she heard someone call. Glancing over, she saw that it was the other of her cousins, Eira._

_“I don’t know,” she called back. Seeing an orc running towards her, she spun out of the way._

_Having been in mid-sword swing, the orc stumbled past her. With its unarmored backside exposed to her, she brought her sword down on the back of its neck._

_She swore as she was suddenly tackled to the ground. As her side hit the hard stone, a sharp, fiery pain filled the right side of her head. She cried out and shoved herself away from the orc. She forced herself to get back to her feet; she could feel blood running down the side of her head and along her neck._

_Across from her, the orc smirked as it spat out part of her ear. She felt her stomach churn; if there had been any food in it, she was certain she would have thrown up. The orc charged forward, a pair of axes in its hands. Though she was used to fighting against her aunt, this orc’s movements were far different—they were more wild, more untamed. She couldn’t predict which side was going to strike next, making it extremely difficult to block and parry._

_At last, she got an opportunity as one of the axes got stuck in her shield. Trying to yank the axe free, it instead pulled her closer to it and she swung her sword into its exposed thigh. The blade sunk through the mottled flesh until it hit bone, at which point she pulled back and swung again. She aimed lower this time, wanting to get the back of its knee._

_The orc fell to the side as she cut through its tendons. Quickly, she brought the blade across its throat, using her shield to block the black blood that sprayed out._

_She looked around again. The side of her head felt like it was on fire and her limbs felt as heavy as lead. But as more and more orcs came charging into courtyard, she knew she had to push on. She had to protect the people hiding in the building behind her._

_“Lady Nienna, please keep my courage burning,” she said under her breath._

_Swallowing hard, she darted forward to engage another orc. Soon, it joined the rest of the orc and goblin corpses littering the ground, as did two more after that._

_Baylee was just pulling her sword out of the side of an orc when something slammed into her stomach. The force was great enough that she was sent flying backwards, the air knocked from her lungs. When she hit the ground, she rolled a couple of feet before coming to a stop on her side. She gasped for air and gripped her stomach; the leather cuirass she wore had puncture marks in it._

_An enormous orc walked towards her, holding a spiked mace at its side; the mace’s head had to have been two feet long. It was covered in dozens of metal spikes that were now covered in fresh blood._ Her _blood._

_It was then Baylee realized that her sword was missing—she must have dropped it when she had gotten hit._

_Pushing herself backwards across the ground, she glanced around for a weapon. Before she could find one within reach, however, the orc swung the mace. A small cry left her mouth as she raised her shield; the force of the blow had been great enough to drive the shield back into her face._

_“Baylee!”_

_Her mother’s voice seemed to echo in her ears before being drowned out by the sound of the mace once more impacting with the wood. The orc brought its arm back for a third swing, but the hit never came. Peeking out from behind her shield, Baylee saw a snarl on her mother’s face as her sword cut through the orc’s arm and then its neck._

_Éolynna reached down, grabbing Baylee by the shoulder and pulling her to her feet. “Up, my filly. You must stay up,” she told her, her words breathless._

_“I-I know, mama,” she said. She managed a smile, though the pain was evident in her eyes._

_Horror suddenly came to her mother’s face as she saw the bloody mess that was once her ear and the blood beginning to stain the leather on her stomach. “Oh, Baylee…”_

_“Don’t think about them,” Baylee told her. Another pained smile came to her lips as she walked past her, crouching down to pick up her sword. A hiss of pain left her mouth as she stood upright._

_“I’m staying with you, my filly,” Éolynna told her. “Your wounds are going t’ slow you down. But you need to last just a little bit longer—do you understand? You must keep fighting.”_

_She nodded. “I’ll last as long as I need to, mama. I promise.” Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Swearing, she turned just in time to block an oncoming orc._

_Éolynna ducked behind the creature, bringing her sword down across its back. Her blade had severed the buckles and belts holding its breastplate and the metal slipped out of place. Baylee drove her sword forward into its chest from the front while her mother drove her sword in through the back._

_Together, mother and daughter continued to fight, bringing down orc after orc._

_Finally, the orcish numbers began to dwindle until just a few of them were left in the courtyard. But these orcs were just as big—if not bigger—than the one that had hit Baylee with its mace. The only saving grace was that these orcs wore less armor._

_Éolynna and Baylee were trying to bring down one of the massive orcs, both of them darting around it and trying to slash at it with their swords in an attempt to confuse it. It was working somewhat; the orc twisted and turned as it tried to keep track of them. Growing frustrated, it started to watch only one of them, though neither woman noticed._

_A choking sound left Baylee’s throat as a large hand suddenly grabbed her throat. The orc lifted her into the air, a wicked sneer on its face. Not having enough room to swing her sword, Baylee instead summoned as much strength as she could and, bringing her legs up, slammed her feet into the orc’s face. As it stumbled back, it let go of her._

_Éolynna watched as her daughter managed to land on her feet, but staggered as she regained her balance. Bringing her sword across the orc’s back as it tried to find its footing, she then pushed her blade through its torso. As she withdrew the blade, she yanked it upwards, making sure to do as much damage as possible on the way out. The orc fell to its knees and then forward, onto the ground. There it lay, unmoving._

_As she looked around, she found the other orcs dead, but this was no time for celebration. In front of her, Baylee was doubled over in pain, her hand pressed against her stomach. “We need t’ get you t’ a healer,” she said, worry filling her voice._

_“They’re all in the great hall,” Baylee reminded her. “They’re blocked off from us.” She looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll—I’ll be fine, mama. It’s not deep. It just hurts.” She managed a small smile as she looked up at her mother. With no more orcs around, she realized that she couldn’t hear the sounds of battle anymore._

_All was quiet._

_“Listen. It’s silent,” she then said, forcing herself to stand upright despite the pain. “I think—I think we might’ve won the war, mama.”_

_Éolynna cupped her face in her hands, a smile on her lips, though there was still worry in her eyes. “I think you’re right, my filly. I think we finally won.” She saw something move behind her mother, but didn’t have time to see what it was before Demelza’s voice broke through the peaceful air._

_“ÉOLYNNA!”_

_But Éolynna had no time to react. Her brows had just knitted themselves together when there was a glint of metal and the sickening sound of a blade chopping through bone. Baylee felt hot liquid splash across her face as Éolynna’s head started to tilt to the side and—_

Baylee’s eyes shot wide open. Darkness surrounded her, as well as her soft, down-filled blanket. Save for the sound of her own, hurried breathing, all was silent.

“I’m in my bed,” she whispered, feeling her heart racing. Clenching her eyes shut, she covered her face with her hands in a mixture of frustration and fear. “I’m in my bed. Not on the battlefield.”

After a few moments, she sat up and threw back the blanket; her body protested this, as it was sore from a week’s worth of sparring practices. Doing her best to ignore the stiffness in her body, she leaned over to fiddle with the oil lamp and box of matches on her bedside table. Within a minute or two, the lamp was lit and had bathed the area immediately around it in warm, welcoming light. Picking the lamp up, she carried it across her room and set it on her dresser.

‘I really need that dreamless sleep tea uncle makes,’ she thought, pouring a bit of water into her washbasin. ‘But I can’t get it until he restocks the rest of his supplies in Laketown…’ She splashed the cold water on her face, not caring if she got any on her nightgown. ‘At least I can still wake myself up before I scream.’

She used the bottom of her nightgown to dry off her face. Then, going over to her east-facing window, she pushed the curtain back as she sniffled; she used the inside of her collar to wipe her nose. Outside, the world was still dark, but in the distance, the sun was beginning to poke its head over the horizon. The sky, she saw, was free of any clouds.

“Still fairly early,” she murmured, “but I know I won’t be able t’ get back t’ sleep. At least it looks like it’s going t’ be a proper spring day today.” Shaking her head, she let the curtain fall shut and returned to her dresser. She opened the drawers and pulled out a fresh set of clothes for the day. Removing her nightgown, she shivered slightly; while it was no longer freezing in the mornings, her room was still a bit chilly.

While she gathered up the legs of her hose to make pulling them on easier, she caught sight of herself in her mirror. She set her hose aside before turning the wick of the oil lamp up a bit, making it glow brighter. Going to stand in front of the mirror, she bit her lower lip as she looked herself over.

First her eyes saw the multitude of freckles covering her body, and then her buck teeth. Next came the shape of her body; while her hips and hindquarters were still the only noticeable curves she had, she was glad to see that she had managed to put on a bit of weight up top.

Demelza and Galiene were always complaining that she was too skinny.

Finally, came the scars. While she didn’t have many of them, the scars she _did_ have weren’t pleasant to look at. She ran her fingers along the puncture marks left by the mace; they were spread across the width of her stomach, some deeper than others, but all of them dark thanks to having gotten infected while she was healing. Along the outside of her right thigh was a set of deep claw marks. She could remember that she hadn’t even noticed receiving those—it was only when she was being treated by a healer that she learned of their presence. It was same for the large scar that wrapped around the left side of her waist to her lower back. She had no idea what had caused it, but it, too, had gotten infected, leaving the scar bigger and worse than the actual wound. And, of course, there was the remnants of her ear.

For a split second, the image of the orc spitting out her ear filled her vision.

Gasping, she quickly shook the image from her head and grabbed her hose, pulling them on. Then came a sleeveless cream-colored underdress; overtop it went an olive-green surcoat with short, somewhat puffy sleeves, and flowers that were embroidered with golden thread.

‘Let’s see…first I’ll need to bring in some buckets of water,’ she thought as she carried the lamp back over to her bedside table. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her comb. ‘Then I’ll get the stovetop fire built up. Once those coals are going, I’ll steal some and get the oven fire going.’ Her nose scrunched up as she started to untangle her hair. ‘After that, I’ll get started on the fruit bread. I should also wash some potatoes and get them cubed up. I remember Galiene mentioning she wanted to use the leftover corned beef and turn it into hash for breakfast this morning…’

Once her hair was combed through, she sectioned off the top half and made quick work of braiding it. She tied it off with a thin piece of ribbon before moving to pull on her boots. Then, blowing out the oil lamp, she left her room.

It was no surprise to her that the short hallway was nearly pitch black; there were no windows in it, nor were there any windows in the family room. That didn’t bother her, however, as she had walked the path thousands of times and was able to easily navigate it. Before leaving the family quarters, she pulled a length of cord from a hook on the wall; hanging from it was a small key. There were three more hanging from the hook—they were the keys that would unlock the door to the family quarters, as they usually kept it locked.

After leaving the family area and making sure she had locked the door, she headed for the kitchen and began the tasks she had lined out for herself. She had fetched the water, rebuilt the fires, and washed the potatoes. By the time she started cutting the potatoes, there was enough light coming in through the window that she could see around the room with relative ease.

It was when she was cutting up her fifth potato that she heard a small knock on the door. Looking up, she saw Bofur poking his head in. “Morning, Bofur,” she said, a smile coming to her lips as she saw him. “The kettle’s on the stove—though it’s not quite ready yet. I only put it on just a few minutes ago.”

“That’s alright. I’m patient,” he chuckled. “You’re up a bit earlier than normal.” Fetching a stool, he carried it over to the counter, where he used it to reach the shelf of mugs.

“As are you. Bifur’s snorin’ keep you from goin’ back t’ sleep again?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not this time. I went t’ bed earlier last night is all.” Grabbing what had become his favorite mug (because it held the most tea), he hopped down onto the floor. “What about you?”

“Hm? Oh. I had a nightmare is all.”

His brows furrowed. “A nightmare?”

She nodded, scooping up a handful of potato cubes only to drop them into a large, wooden bowl. “Aye, a nightmare. I get them once in a while.” Plucking up another potato from the pile, she cut it in half. “I couldn’t get back t’ sleep after this one, so I thought I’d just get up an’ do something productive.” The mental image of the massive orc’s face flashed before her eyes, making her flinch slightly.

His frown grew when he saw her wince and, as he scooted the stool down a few paces so he could pick out a tea, he said, “Must’ve been a bad one if you couldn’t get back t’ sleep, especially given how exhausted you were last night.” Not only had it been a busy day for the inn, as someone held their birthday celebration there, but Demelza had increased their sparring session to five rounds instead of three.

She tried to think of a way to phrase her words so Bofur wouldn’t grow more concerned, but after a moment, she realized she was unable to do such. “Aye, it was bad,” she admitted with a sigh. “You can blame that on my memory. It wasn’t so much a nightmare as it was me relivin’ a bad memory.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. While he was curious as to what the memory was, he knew better than to ask about it. If she needed to talk about it, she would initiate that conversation on her own. “Do you need a hug?” he asked instead after a moment had passed.

She blinked, pausing in her potato cutting to look up at him. “Pardon?”

“Do you need a hug?” he repeated. “Sometimes, somethin’ as simple as a hug is what’s needed t’ help a person feel better after nightmares like that.” He wore a friendly smile as he shrugged.

A quiet laugh left her mouth and she set the knife down; he was right. Hugs usually did help her feel better after such dreams and since she hadn’t wanted to bother Will or her father, Bofur’s offer was a welcomed surprise. “You know…I think a hug _would_ help,” she told him. “It certainly wouldn’t make things worse.”

“Exactly!” he chirped. Hopping off the stool a second time, he set his chosen tea tin down on the counter before walking around the island and over to Baylee. As he wrapped his arms around her, he felt his cheeks grow warm and he suddenly felt a bit shy—but why? He was helping cheer her up. There was nothing to get bashful about…

Little did he know, but Baylee’s cheeks had also grown hot as she returned the hug. She was pleasantly surprised by how nice it felt; usually, the hugs she received involved her having to stand on her tiptoes or her being hoisted up like a doll. But with this one, neither happened.

In fact, Bofur holding her like this made her feel strangely…safe? She wasn’t sure _why_ it made her feel this way; there was no danger around and there hadn’t been for years. But it was a pleasant feeling…and what made it even better was that he smelled of cherry tobacco. It was a scent she would have never associated with a dwarf, and yet, it seemed to suit him perfectly.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. Reluctantly, she pulled back and smiled down at him. “It did help.”

“Any time, lass,” he told her, smiling up at her. He was thankful that, while it there was light in the room, it wasn’t enough to reveal how red his cheeks had become. “I’m glad it helped. An’ speakin’ o’ help, do you need any with the food?” It was an offer he made every morning, though she almost always gave him the same answer.

Today, however, was a bit different. “Actually…if you wouldn’t mind, could you fetch the corned beef from the pantry an’ cut it into small cubes?” Picking up her knife, she returned to cutting up the potatoes.

“O’ course, lass!” He started to walk towards sink in the corner, pulling his gloves off as he did so. “I take it this means that it’ll be hash for breakfast?” Using the ladle, he got his hands wet before standing on his tiptoes and grabbing the bar of soap so he could lather up.

“Aye,” she chuckled, glancing over at him as he washed his hands. It was a bit adorable, seeing him have to stand on his tiptoes like a child (though she had to do the same thing). “I’m not sure what else Galiene is goin’ to want to throw in it, but I do know she wanted at least potatoes an’ corned beef.”

“I’m sure that it’ll end up tasty no matter what,” he chuckled. Once he had his hands good and soapy, he grabbed the ladle and used it to scoop water out to rinse his hands. Then, drying his hands off, he headed towards the pantry.

Glancing over her shoulder, Baylee said, “It’ll be on your right, third shelf up. It’s the lump wrapped in brown paper.” Her brows then rose slightly as she heard another knock on the kitchen door. “The door’s open,” she called over. She was expecting Ori or Bifur to poke their head in, but when it turned out to be Rán’s face she saw, Baylee was more than a little surprised. “Good morning, Rán,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, Lady Baylee,” he said, returning the smile. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “Do you need somethin’?”

“I was wondering if—” He was cut off as Bofur came out of the pantry carrying something wrapped in brown paper.

“Took me a wee bit t’ find it, but I finally got the corned beef!” he grinned, setting it down on the counter. He then paused, his brow rising ever so slightly as he saw Rán in the doorway. “Mornin’, Rán. Fancy seein’ you up this early,” he said with a small chuckle. Inside, however, he felt a bit cautious.

“Likewise, Master Bofur,” Rán replied, his voice as casual as always. “As I was about to say, Lady Baylee: I was wondering if I could make myself a bit of tea?” He had done such a few times since coming to the inn—usually on mornings when Bofur slept in a bit.

“O’ course; help yourself. The water should be ready by about now,” she chirped before looking back down at the potato she was cutting.

Rán stepped into the kitchen and headed over to the shelf of mugs. Unlike Baylee and Bofur, he had no need for the stool; he was tall enough that he could just reach over and grab one. While he walked over to the tea shelf, he glanced at Bofur from the corner of his eye and frowned slightly when he saw the dwarf pulling a knife from the drawer. “…May I ask what are you doing?” he asked, a bit of caution to his voice.

“Helpin’ Miss Baylee by cuttin’ up this corned beef,” Bofur answered. He then looked over at her. “How big would you like the cubes, lass?” He caught a cube of potato as she tossed it over.

“About that big,” she replied. Her brow rose as she saw him inspect the cube before popping it into his mouth. “Bofur!” she laughed.

He grinned. “What? That wasn’t supposed t’ double as a snack?” he joked.

Rán’s brow rose ever so slightly as he pulled out a tea strainer. “Potatoes and corned beef…? What sort of dish will they be used in?” Looking back down at the tin of tea, he opened it and started to fill the strainer.

“It’s going t’ be hash,” Baylee answered as she scooped the last cubes into the bowl. Then, grabbing the bucket of fresh water, she filled the bowl until the potatoes were covered by at least an inch of water.

“Hash?”

“Mhm. It’s a common dish up here. We usually make it with leftover meat, but only if there’s not enough t’ go around. We add in vegetables t’ stretch it out an’ feed more people,” she explained, wiping her hands on her apron. “It can also be made with more vegetables other than potatoes. We like t’ add in cabbage, but we don’t have any at the moment.”

“Interesting…I may have to try some then.” He looked up, giving her a kind smile. “I have been quite enjoying the different foods Dale has to offer. They are vastly different from what we would eat in Dorwinion.”

She glanced over at him, her cheeks growing a touch warm; his smile was _very_ handsome… “I remember you mentionin’ that mint is a staple down there. What other sorts o’ spices are used?” Using a clean dishtowel, she wiped down the counter; any remaining bits of potato she swept into her hand and dumped in the garbage bucket.

“Oh, plenty. Cardamom, caraway, cinnamon, cloves, cumin, bay leaves, sumac, nutmeg…We also use many of the same herbs that are found up here. Rosemary, thyme, basil, garlic, and tarragon for example.” As he spoke, he carried his mug over to the stove, where he used a dishcloth to retrieve the kettle. “Many of them we get from Gondor and North Harad, though some come from the eastern shores of Middle Earth.”

“That explains why I haven’t heard o’ some of them,” Baylee said. “Just like I hadn’t heard o’ chocolate until you told me about it last week.”

Still cutting up the corned beef, Bofur glanced at her. “Maybe I’ll have to get some for the Tankard then,” he grinned. “Dori’s got a lot of different spices in his shop as well as chocolate.”

“I remember Ori telling me about the chocolate—he says it’s really good when it hasn’t been sweetened much and is paired with tart fruits and berries.”

Rán nodded. “Master Ori would be correct. We call that type of chocolate ‘dark’ chocolate, since it has little to no sugar. If you were to melt the chocolate, add sugar, and cream, that is how you get hot chocolate.” He stirred his tea strainer around in his mug, watching Baylee climb onto the counter in order to reach the mixing bowls. “As I have mentioned, I like to add mint to mine, though my sister prefers to add orange zest to hers. There are even some who like to—”

“Lass, could you toss me a bowl for this beef?” Bofur interjected. “Sorry, Rán.” He flashed the ranger a quick, apologetic smile before looking at Baylee as she tossed over a metal bowl. “Thanks, lass,” he said, catching the bowl. As he used his hand to sweep the corned beef into the bowl, he glanced back at Rán. “Again, sorry ‘bout that. Please, continue.”

“I was just going to add that some people enjoy adding red pepper to their hot chocolate,” he finished. He kept an eye on Baylee as she grabbed a second, larger bowl before sliding off the counter. “Is there anything else you would like assistance with, Lady Baylee?” he then asked.

Seeing that Bofur’s mug and tea strainer sat empty, she set the bowl down in favor of preparing the drink. “Ah, well…unless you’d like t’ chop up some nuts for me, I don’t think there really is.”

“I would be more than happy to do that,” he assured her, the handsome smile on his lips once more.

Looking up from filling the mug with hot water, she felt her cheeks grow warm and her gaze quickly returned to the mug. “Al-alright. Let me fetch them for you.” Setting the kettle down, she walked towards the pantry, pausing to put Bofur’s tea beside him. “Here you go, lad.”

A thankful smile came to his lips. “Thanks, lass. I wholly forgot I had meant t’ make that.” Seeing that Rán had made her cheeks pink, he felt that strange lurch in his stomach again. ‘Why do I keep having this weird feeling?’ he thought, sweeping more cubes of meat into his bowl. As Rán walked over to the sink to wash his hands, he subtly kept his eye on him. ‘Any time that Rán is around Miss Baylee, my stomach gets like this. But _why_?’

Both males heard the small ‘thunk’ of the trapdoor coming to rest against the wall as Baylee headed down into the cellar. Frowning slightly, Rán poked his head into the pantry to make sure she wasn’t hurt only to find that she had disappeared down the hole. He told himself that everything was alright and stepped away so he could dry his hands.

“Do you often help Lady Baylee in her morning cooking?” he asked Bofur, still keeping his voice casual.

“Not often, no. I always _offer_ , though she usually declines. We usually just chat while I watch her make bread.”

He nodded slowly, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his tea. “Conversation with her is quite pleasant. I daresay speaking with her can be more entertaining that speaking with my own men.”

“That’s because she’s a genuine sweetheart,” Bofur replied, his brow rising. “An’ she’s got herself a good sense o’ humor.”

Rán’s brow rose in return. “She is also quite knowledgeable in a few obscure topics.” Taking another sip of his tea, he discreetly observed the dwarf. “I am rather surprised a woman such as her does not yet have a husband.”

‘What is he trying to get at?’ Bofur thought. Peeking at him from the corner of his eye, he caught the ranger watching him. “Aye. She’d be a fine catch for someone,” he agreed, though there was a bit of wariness in his voice. “But they’d have to be a right special someone t’ win her heart.”

“They would indeed.” The slightest hint of a smirk was hidden behind his mug as he took another drink of tea. “And that someone special may be closer than she realizes.”

His brows furrowing, a frown appeared on Bofur’s lips; he knew Rán had just subtly issued him a challenge—and it was a challenge for Baylee’s _heart_ of all things. But…why _him_? A lass as pretty and as sweet her would never fall for a simple dwarven toymaker like him.

…Would she?

* * *

Ori yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen at the Ri mansion. He had come home for a couple of days to get some more pocket money as well as some different clothes and, as he had promised Baylee, some chocolate. Looking around the room, he was a little surprised to find it lacking Dori’s presence—usually, his eldest brother had some sort of tea brewing and a pot of stew or porridge staying warm by the fire. He shrugged and went over to the stove, where he lightly tapped the side of the kettle; he supposed Dori had already left for the shop. Finding it hot, he moved to get himself a mug.

“It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead!”

Yelping in surprise, Ori dropped his cup. Before it could hit the ground, however, the cup landed on the toe of a familiar boot. He picked it back up as he smiled apologetically at his brother. “Sorry. You startled me.” Being home, he spoke in Khuzdul—which, after spending so long in Dale, almost felt foreign on his tongue.

Dori’s brow rose as he looked at him and he chuckled. “Then I should be the sorry one, lad.” He watched as Ori went back to making his tea before moving to get himself a bit of a snack. “So, how did it feel to sleep in your own bed again for the first time in nearly three months?” He disappeared into the pantry for a moment.

Ori’s eyes widened and he looked at Dori in shock. “It’s already been that long?” he squeaked. “Wow…I didn’t even really notice. But…it was a bit nice to be in my own bed again. I didn’t have to listen to Bifur’s snoring, at least.”

“That’s always a positive. But be glad his snoring isn’t nearly as bad at Bombur’s!” As he came out of the pantry, Ori saw that he was holding a large ham.

“I thank Mahal for that every night,” he smiled, pouring a bit of cream into his mug before stirring it around with the tea strainer. “Oh, I was wondering if I could take a chocolate bar or two from the shop? Miss Baylee’s never had chocolate, so I told her I’d try and get her some.”

Dori’s brow rose again as he sliced himself some ham. “Now, Ori, you _know_ chocolate is one of the most expensive imports I’ve got. It’s not something I can just part with willy-nilly.”

“I know, but she’s been taking awful good care of me.” Sniffing the tea, he then added just a tiny bit of honey. “She’s been taking good care of all of us, actually…Always making sure we’ve got enough to eat or enough to drink; always checking in to see if we’ve any need for more bedding…” Inwardly, he grinned. He knew that telling his brother that Baylee was taking care of him so well, it’d appeal to Dori’s inner mother hen.

“Is that so…?” he murmured, his voice a bit contemplative. “Well, she is a kind lass…I suppose I can part with _two_ bars of chocolate.” He then pointed a stern finger at Ori. “But no more than that! I’ll know if you’ve taken one for yourself as well.”

He smiled innocently. “I know better than to try and nick anything from the shop,” he assured him. “I have to go to the market this afternoon, so I’ll stop by when I’m done there.”

“That sounds good.” Grabbing a plate, he carefully laid the slices of ham onto it before also cutting himself some cheese. “Have you eaten yet, by the way?” He then shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. Would you like me to make you something?”

“No, thank you. I was going to make myself a couple of eggs and sausages before heading out.” Seeing the small frown on Dori’s lips, he gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Dori. I plan on getting more food while I’m in the market. Especially if Miss Hilde has her bakery open today.”

Nodding in understanding, Dori chuckled quietly. “She should—it is Wednesday, after all.” He picked up the ham and carried it back into the pantry. “So, other than being hired by Bofur and Bifur to do some painting, what else have you been up to in Dale?” he called.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of drawing.” He crouched down, looking for their small frying pan. “And I’ve helped Miss Baylee and Miss Wenna with a few of their errands in the market. Last week, I helped Miss Baylee and Master Richard gather medicinal flowers.” Finding the pan, he carefully pulled it out from underneath a couple of larger pans. “Mostly, though, I’ve just been exploring the city.”

Returning from the pantry with three sausages in hand, he walked over to his little brother, setting the meat on the counter beside him. “Have you been enjoying yourself, at least?” He wore a bit of a stiff smile.

“Thank you for grabbing those.” Ori could tell that Dori was trying his hardest to not start bombarding him with other question pertaining to his health and his wellbeing. “Oh, yes—I’ve been quite enjoying myself! It’s so different from Erebor, even though the cities are so close to one another.” He flicked one of his braids out of his face as he set the pan over the stove grate. “Oh! I also witnessed a miracle a few weeks ago.”

Dori’s brows knitted together. “A miracle…? How so?”

A cheeky grin came to his lips. “I saw _Bard_ laughing and smiling.”

His eyes widened; Bard was well known for rarely ever smiling, let alone _laughing_. “Wh-what?! How much did he have to drink?”

“None.” Plopping a spoonful of butter into the pan, he watched as it slid across the hot metal as it started to melt. “He brought his children over to the Full Tankard to visit the Braddocks; he’s apparently good friends with their family. So much so, his wee ones consider Will and Miss Baylee their aunt and uncle.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. I was beginning to think that he was just born unable to show signs of happiness.” He lightly shook his head, wrapping a piece of ham around a bit of cheese. “Speaking of Bard, though, isn’t Fili’s meeting with him coming up soon?”

“The week after next, I believe,” Ori answered with a small nod. He used a spatula to spread the butter around before setting the sausages around the perimeter of the pan. “I…was actually wondering something about that, to be honest.”

Cocking his head as he chewed a bit of his snack, Dori looked at his brother with curiosity.

He cleared his throat. “Well, one of the things they’re going to be talking about is sending a merchant caravan down to Laketown. Bofur mentioned that Fili and Dwalin will be going with the caravan, so I was wondering if—”

“If you could go down with them?” There was a knowing look on his face and he sighed when Ori nodded. “If there’s one thing these past few weeks have taught me, it’s that I can’t keep you here within my sight forever, lad,” he told him. “So, aye, you can go. Just…just be careful, alright? Balin’s told me that there’s been some trouble with raiders closer to Laketown of late.”

Rolling the sausages over, he nodded again before once more giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

* * *

Almost two hours later found Ori taking the final bite of a meat pie as he walked, not through the market, but up a long, winding staircase. He had made this trek many, many times over the last eight years, so the climb wasn’t too tiring for him. It led him up through the mountain, where it would then open up to a wide balcony that looked westwards towards Dale; it was tucked so far out of the way, barely anyone knew of its existence. In fact, he was fairly certain only four people knew about it: Thorin, Dis, himself, and—

“Dwalin!”

As he stepped onto the landing, he watched the larger dwarf turn around, a mixture of surprise and joy on his face. “There you are, love!” A broad grin came to his lips when he saw Ori hurrying over to him and he scooped the smaller dwarf up into his arms only to kiss him deeply. A moment later, he leaned back, a goofy grin on his lips. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

His brow rising, Ori laughed. “Now why wouldn’t I show up to a meeting _I_ arranged?” he teased. He kissed Dwalin a second time, his arms wrapping around his neck. “Aulë’s beard, I’ve missed you,” he murmured. Nuzzling his cheek with his nose, he sighed in content; one of his favorite spots to be was wrapped up in Dwalin’s arms like this.

“I’ve missed you, too.” He rested his forehead against Ori’s, a surprisingly tender smile on his lips. “Damn the fact that I’ve been so busy lately…Arranging things for Fili’s trip the week after next has been surprisingly taxing.”

“I bet. He’s the crown prince, after all. I’m sure Thorin and Dis want to make sure he stays as safe as possible.”

“Bah—Fili’s as good a fighter as any of us,” he scoffed. “He doesn’t need bodyguards to keep him safe.” Stealing a third kiss, he finally set Ori back down on the ground. “I’ve heard you’ve been having quite the holiday over in Dale.”

His cheeks turned a bit pink and he smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I have…I still can’t believe that I managed to convince Dori to let me stay behind.” Shaking his head, he chuckled and walked over to the railing so he could look out at the lands to the west of Erebor.

“To be honest, when Nori first told me that he had allowed it, I thought he was trying to pull my leg.” Walking up behind him, he wrapped his arms around Ori and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “But it’s good for you, not being under Dori’s watch all of the time. You’re very much a grown dwarrow—you don’t need all that mothering.”

Relaxing against him, he let out a sigh of content. “Even if it meant I was further away from you,” he murmured. He turned his head, nuzzling the side of Dwalin’s face. “How long will you and Fili be staying in Dale?”

“About five days. Then we’ll go home for another two days to gather up our traveling supplies. On the third day, we’ll leave early with the dwarven merchants and meet up with the humans at Dale’s southern gates.”

“Humans and _dwarf_ ,” he corrected.

Dwalin’s brow rose and he looked at him curiously. “What do you mean by that?”

A cheeky grin came to his lips. “Dori said I can go down to Laketown with you all.”

His eyes widened and a broad grin spread across his lips once more. “Are you serious?! How did you convince him to allow that?”

“I didn’t need to convince him at all, actually. I just…I just asked and he said so long as I promise to be careful, I could go.” He laughed as Dwalin nuzzled his cheek, his coarse beard tickling his skin.

“Means I’ll get to steal plenty of alone time with you,” he murmured, his tone mischievous.

Biting his lower lip, Ori glanced up at him. “But…isn’t Nori going on the trip, too?”

“No. He’s been given an assignment from Thorin that he has to work on.”

“Oh, yes…he mentioned that. He also said that it was top secret, so he couldn’t tell me what it was.” A coy grin came to his lips. “But maybe _you_ could tell me…?” he asked sweetly.

“Mmm…even if I _did_ know what his mission was, you know I wouldn’t be able to tell you, love.” He chuckled as a pout came to his lover’s lips. “Don’t pout like that, love. You know as well as I that the only other person who knows what your brother’s tasks are is Thorin himself.”

Ori left out a defeated sigh. “I suppose you’re right…after all, he’s a spymaster. If everyone knew what he was up to, then he wouldn’t be a very good one.” Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back to rest against Dwalin’s shoulder, a smile on his lips as he felt the larger dwarf bring him closer to him.

Dwalin quietly chuckled, his eyes closing as well. The pair stood in silence for many minutes, simply enjoying the other’s presence. It wasn’t often they could steal moments like this, especially with how watchful Dori—and, to a lesser and less observed extent, Nori—could be. Though couples consisting of two males or two females were accepted as perfectly normal among dwarrowkind, Dwalin and Ori were still a bit hesitant to make their courtship known to their friends and families due to their age differences. Having turned one hundred just that year, Ori was a good fifty years younger than Dwalin.

A soft chuckle left his mouth, making Dwalin’s brow rise. “What’s got you laughing, hmm?” he murmured.

“I’m just thinking back to a few years ago,” Ori answered, voice just as quiet. “To when I was trying my damnedest to win you over.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorted. “You didn’t need to win me over and you know it.”

“Well, you certainly made me work hard to get you to realize I was serious about wanting to be with you.” He lightly shook his head and quietly laughed again. “Three years it took me to get you to understand that I was truly in love with you and that it wasn’t a simple crush on my idol.”

“To be fair, love, I needed to be sure—especially when it came to potentially stirring up Dori’s wrath.” He knew well enough that, despite Dori’s relatively calm and easy-going exterior, the dwarf could have quite the temper. Combined with his enormous amount of strength, Dori was very much _not_ a person Dwalin wanted to get upset. “And…there was also the fact that I couldn’t believe that someone like you could fall for a brute like me.”

A pout came to his lips and he opened his eyes to look up at him. “You’re not a brute. You may look like a brute at times, but you’re a gentledwarrow of surprising sophistication.”

Dwalin let out a hearty laugh. “A gentledwarrow of surprising sophistication?” he repeated, his brow rising. “That’s the first time I’ve been called either a gentledwarrow or sophisticated. Even my own brother says I’m a ruffian with no manners!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I have yet to meet any other dwarrow who can create as intricate and delicate tattoo designs as you. Nor have I met any other dwarrow who’s so picky when it comes to choosing what furs are going to be used to make his clothes…” A playful grin came to his lips as he turned his gaze out to the fields once more. “You’re just a different sort of sophisticated.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then.” He buried his face in the crook of Ori’s neck again, sighing in content. “I hear Bofur and Bifur bought a shop and have hired a human lad to help them.”

“You heard correct. Will’s a really nice person and gets along extremely well with them.”

“You know the lad’s name?”

“Mhm. He’s the son of the Full Tankard’s innkeeper. Him and his daughter, Baylee, have also become good friends to us.”

A small smile came to Dwalin’s lips. “Is that so? Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re making new friends.” He knew Ori had a bit of a hard time meeting new people thanks to his shyness, so to hear that he had made three new friends was refreshing. “Nori mentioned that the inn lives up to its name.”

“Oh, does it ever! And what’s even better is that they have the _good_ stuff.” A cheeky grin came to his lips. “Not to mention, their food is really good, too. Of course, it’s nothing compared to Gerdi’s cooking, but only Yavanna herself could produce better food than Gerdi.” He watched as a pale speck moved across the fields. ‘I wonder if that’s Baylee out for a ride?’ he thought.

“Right you are about that…There’s a reason she’s the royal kitchen mistress.” Looking down, he kissed the top of Ori’s head. “Though, I did hear Fili and Thorin raving about some sort of fruit bread Bofur brought back with him from that inn.”

“Is that so? I know Bofur said the two of them enjoyed it, but he didn’t say they were raving about it.” He chuckled and lightly shook his head. “How has Fili been, by the way? Is he at all nervous about his upcoming trip?”

“He’s well. He’s been thinking about looking for a craftsman to commission a new leg from. Doesn’t seem too nervous about his trip, though, which is good. If anything, he seems more excited than anything.” He took a step back from his lover, his hands moving to start combing through his hair.

A pleased hum left his throat as he felt the fingers in his hair. “It has been a number of years since he got that prosthetic. I’m surprised he didn’t get a new one sooner…” He then chuckled. “I wonder if Will knows how to make fake limbs…? He’s an excellent woodworker; he might be able to help.”

Gathering up a small section of his hair, Dwalin further sectioned it out so he could begin braiding. “That’s _if_ he wants it made of wood. He’s not really sure what kind of material he’d like his new leg to be made out of.”

“Understandable. I would say he should go with metal, but I can only imagine how heavy that would get after a time. At least with the wood, it’s not _too_ heavy.”

“Kili suggested he get one made of glass. Apparently, there’s a smith here who can make glass as strong as steel.”

Ori’s brow rose and he glanced over his shoulder at him only to have Dwalin gently force him to look ahead once more. “You’re joking, right? Glass is fragile. It’d shatter the moment he bumped into a corner.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckled. “But, being that it’s so hard to do, it’s also extremely expensive. I’m not sure what all goes into it, but it’s a lot of ingredients from the Red and Yellow Mountains.”

“I don’t think Fili’s the type who’d want a glass leg, anyway. Kili wanting a glass eye, on the other hand…”

Dwalin grinned, his brow rising somewhat. “He’s actually commissioned a prosthetic eye recently,” he explained. “But it’s not glass.”

He tried to look over his shoulder again. “Don’t tell me it’s silver.”

“Nope.”

“Gold?”

“Guess again.”

Ori was quiet for a long moment as he thought over different materials that could be used for such a thing. Gold, silver, and glass had already been ruled out, so he started thinking about other metals. Copper would turn the area green, as would brass and bronze. Mithril was most definitely out of the question, as it was so rare and lead would be much too soft. Wood could work, though he would imagine the wood may begin to rot after a few years…

“Alright, I give up. What’s it going to be made out of?”

“Most of it is going to be onyx, but for the iris and pupil, it’s going to be a fire opal.” He snickered as he heard Ori let out an exasperated sigh.

“Of _course,_ it would be Kili who went with such dramatic flair for his prosthetic.”

Dwalin shrugged, though he knew his lover couldn’t see it. “You have to admit, though: It’s going to look really interesting. Especially with his dark hair.”

“I just hope poor Tauriel doesn’t get startled by it every time she sees it. As interesting a combination as those two stones are, it’s going to be unnerving to see for a while.”

“Luckily, he won’t be wearing it all the time—just like Fili doesn’t always wear his leg.”

He frowned. “Wait, you mean he’ll be able to remove it whenever he wants?”

“Yes? Did you not know that, love?” Leaning over, he watched as Ori’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red.

“I…thought fake eyes stayed in permanently,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. A small pout came to his lips as Dwalin kissed his cheek.

“A common misconception, love,” he assured him. “Kili thought the same.”

Though he didn’t quite believe him, Ori nodded slowly. “At least I wasn’t the only one, then…”


	14. Chapter 14

The clanging of metal on metal rang out through the still afternoon air.

Nori sat on the edge of the well, his pipe in hand as he watched Demelza and Baylee spar. Baylee had definitely improved over the last two weeks; she was keeping up with her aunt and was even starting to win more matches. But there was something about the way she moved that didn’t seem right to him. Normally, she was quite sure footed and even graceful, but when sparring, she seemed almost clumsy at times.

Demelza, on the other hand, was moving so fluidly, she looked as if she were dancing.

His brow rose as he saw Baylee tumble out of the way when Demelza came charging at her. Hopping back to her feet, she swung the sword and smacked it into the back of her aunt’s legs. Demelza came to a stop, panting slightly as she turned.

“That’s a win for you, sweetie,” she told her, resting a fist on her hip. “Two to two. We’re tied.”

“Let—let’s get a drink o’ water before—before we do the tiebreaker,” Baylee puffed, shoving the sword back into its sheath. “Please.”

Though she wanted to do the tiebreaker right away, Demelza relented and walked with her niece over to the well. By the time they got there, Nori had already started turning the crank to bring up the bucket. “Enjoyin’ the show, Master Nori?” she asked with a breathless laugh.

“I have t’ admit, I didn’t think human women could make good fighters,” he told her, “until I’ve watched the two o’ you these past two weeks. Where did you learn t’ fight like that?”

“My late sister and I were shieldmaidens o’ Rohan,” she explained. “Warren’s also a fighter, so the three o’ us made sure to teach our children how t’ fight in case they ever needed it.”

Baylee quietly thanked Nori as he pulled the bucket over to rest on the stone wall. She grabbed the ladle and started to drink the cold water.

“That explains it,” Nori said with a small chuckle. “The way you fight is unlike any type I’ve seen before—an’ I’ve seen lots during my lifetime.” He tapped his now-extinguished pipe on the stone near the base of the well, watching as the dead ashes fluttered to the ground.

“Aye. It’s because we have t’ know how to fight both on our feet an’ on our horses. An’ if you’re a person who wields two weapons at a time, you also have t’ learn how t’ ride without using the reins.”

His brows furrowed at this information. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It can be,” Baylee piped up. Her shoulders were still heaving with the effort of breathing. “You have t’ have good leg strength, because you’re holding on with your thighs an’ using your feet t’ steer the horse.”

Nodding in understanding, he leaned against the wooden beam. “I take it you also know how t’ fight from horseback?”

Baylee nodded. “I’m better with a sword when I’m in the saddle, but when I’m down on the ground? Not so much.” She chuckled, rubbing a spot on her side where Demelza had landed a good blow earlier.

“Well, why don’t you fight with somethin’ else, then?”

Demelza _wanted_ to say that Baylee was too small to use any other weapon, but she refrained, as Baylee was about six inches taller than Nori. “A sword makes better sense for her, given her strength,” she said instead. “She could do with a smaller shield, but that’s the smallest we’ve got.”

“Have you tried pole weapons or bludgeons?” he then asked. “Maces, spears, halberds…? She’s got the balance; she could be quite good with them.” Glancing past the two women, he saw Ori walking into the courtyard. He gave a small wave to his younger brother, which made Demelza and Baylee look over their shoulders.

“We haven’t tried any o’ those with her, no. Will an’ Warren use them, though,” Demelza replied, also giving Ori a small wave.

“My mace is in the stables. If you’d like t’ try it out, I’d be more than happy t’ let you use it,” he said, looking at Baylee. He saw her cheeks darken ever so slightly as she glanced at Demelza; something told him that she was more used to being assigned a weapon than making the choice on her own.

“It’s your choice, sweetie,” Demelza told her.

“Well…I suppose if you’re offerin’, it wouldn’t hurt t’ try—except when auntie lands a blow on me.”

He snorted as he stood upright. “Well, maybe that’ll happen less often with a mace. Be right back.” Turning, he headed to the stables.

“Where’s he going?” Ori asked, taking the two women by surprise. His cheeks pinkened slightly in embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean t’ startle you.”

“It’s alright, Ori,” Baylee assured him.

“Your brother’s going t’ let Baylee try usin’ his mace for fighting instead o’ a sword,” Demelza explained. She stepped forward, taking the ladle from the water bucket and getting herself a drink.

“Oh? That’s goin’ t’ be interesting t’ watch,” he grinned. He let out a small laugh as Baylee lightly nudged him.

“How was your little holiday back home?” Baylee then asked, chuckling herself.

“It was surprisingly nice! Dori wasn’t nearly as fussy as he usually is, which was a bit o’ a welcomed surprise.” He pushed one of his braids behind his ear; as it was moved, Baylee could see a red mark towards the back of his neck. “Oh, an’ I brought you some chocolate, just like I promised!”

She perked at this. “Ooh, I can’t wait t’ try it!” she smiled. “It’ll be a good pick-me-up after all this sparring. Is it the kind that you drink or is it in that bar form you were talkin’ about?”

“Bar,” he answered, “but it can be melted down and turned into hot chocolate. I got a plain bar just for that, actually. The other’s got bits o’ fruit in it an’ has already been sweetened.”

“What’s this chocolate stuff you’re talkin’ about?” Demelza questioned, her brow rising.

Baylee looked over at her aunt. “It’s apparently a hard-t’-get treat that Ori an’ Nori’s brother imports all the way from the eastern parts o’ Middle Earth.”

An impressed expression came to her aunt’s face. “Huh. That’s probably why I’ve never heard o’ it, then,” she chuckled. “Maybe the Lightfoots will get some in stock one day, since they’re in business with your brother now?”

“Maybe. It’s definitely one o’ his more expensive items; it’s up there with ice wine.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them and, as they turned, they found Nori standing there with his mace in hand. “Sorry. I didn’t want t’ interrupt,” he said with a bit of a sheepish grin. He then held the weapon out to Baylee. “You can use it one or two handed, but I recommend two handed for you, since you’re not _quite_ as strong as us dwarves.”

She snorted as she took the mace. “Now _that’s_ an enormous understatement,” she joked. As she held the weapon in her hands, she found that it was heavy, but not quite as heavy as she was expecting. It was also nicely weighted, with the bludgeoning end being nice and heavy. She was glad to see that, while the head of the mace was spiked, the spikes were dull. Despite that, however, she knew they could still hurt mighty bad. “Should we wrap it with some cloth, auntie?”

“Aye, we should,” she said with a nod. “I’ll go fetch some—”

“Here!” Ori pulled off the scarf that hung loosely around his neck and stepped forward, beginning to wrap it around the weapon.

Baylee frowned. “But Ori, that’s your scarf—what if somethin’ happens to it?”

“It’s fine,” he promised. “I don’t really like this one anyway. The only reason I was wearin’ it was because Dori made me.” He shook his head.

Nori let out a small laugh. “Aye, he hasn’t really left the mountain since he returned from Dale,” he explained. “So he’s a bit behind on his seasons.” 

Demelza chuckled, her brow rising. “Well, thank you for the sacrifice o’ this scarf nonetheless.” She then looked at her niece. “Are you ready for our tiebreaker?”

“Aye, I suppose we should get it over with,” Baylee said with a small chuckle. Ori and Nori could tell that there wasn’t very much humor in the sound.

“One thing before you get started, Miss Baylee,” Nori said before she could walk off. “While you can use either an underhand or overhand grip, I recommend keepin’ whatever hand’s near the bottom as an overhand grip. An’ don’t have your hands too close together, either.”

She nodded, taking in this information. While she had seen maces and pole weapons being used before, she had admittedly never really paid much attention to how they were used, so his advice was helpful.

The brothers watched as the women moved back to the center of the courtyard and took their positions. Demelza called out ‘Go!’ and the duel began.

“Why did you offer to let Miss Baylee use your mace?” Ori asked.

“I’ve been watching her an’ her aunt spar on-an’-off over the last two weeks an’ every time, something just seemed off about Miss Baylee usin’ a sword,” Nori explained. “I knew axes weren’t goin’ to be a good weapon for her, since she doesn’t have the strength, nor would a pair o’ knives work for her. But after I thought about it for a bit, I realized she’s got good enough balance that she could do well with somethin’ closer to a pole weapon. I’d actually like t’ see about gettin’ her to use a spear—I think that’d be a very good weapon for her.”

“Hm.” He watched as Baylee used the mace to block a flurry of blows from her aunt before trying to sweep her feet out from under her with it. “She does seem to be a bit more offensive with it than with the sword.”

Nori nodded in agreement. “And she’s balanced better. She doesn’t have to worry about carrying a shield that’s almost too heavy for her t’ use effectively.”

“Aye, I agree. I don’t think it helps that her aunt is so intense about this, either.” He shifted the strap of his satchel. “I get that she wants t’ make sure Baylee’s back in fighting shape, but does she really have t’ push her so hard?”

“Bofur, Bifur, an’ I agree. Don’t know ‘bout Will or Warren yet, though.” He pulled his pipe back out along with his tobacco pouch. “But, this isn’t an affair for us t’ meddle in.” He cocked a brow as Demelza hooked the staff of the mace with the beard of one of her axes. She tried to yank it out of Baylee’s grip, but the younger woman merely let go with one hand and slipped it free. “How was your visit with Dori?”

Ori glanced up at Nori. “It was actually fairly nice. He…he didn’t mother me _too_ much. And I asked him about the possibility of goin’ to Laketown.”

At that, Nori’s brows furrowed and he looked down at his brother. “Going t’ Laketown? This is the first I’ve heard about that.”

An innocent smile came to his lips and his cheeks darkened. “I’ve been thinkin’ about going down there with Miss Baylee and her uncle, but I wanted t’ clear it with Dori before I brought it up with anyone. You know, just in case he forced me t’ stay here.”

“Judging by your chipper mood, he said you could go?”

“Aye, so long as I promise t’ be careful.”

A genuine smile came to Nori’s lips—a rare expression for the ex-thief. Reaching over, he tousled Ori’s hair. “Look at you, khînadad! Finally comin’ out from under our brother’s thumb!” He was about to pull Ori into a hug when there was a cry of pain from the duelers. They looked over in time to see Demelza drop to one knee, her left leg outstretched as she rested her weight on one hand. The other gripped the knee of her left leg.

“Auntie! What happened?!” Baylee yelped, dropping the mace and rushing over to her aunt. “Did I hit you too hard?”

Her face contorted in pain, Demelza shook her head. “N-No, it wasn’t you, sw-sweetie,” she said through gritted teeth.

Nori and Ori hurried over. “Wh-what happened?” Ori squeaked.

Baylee, who was in the middle of helping ease her aunt down so that she was laying on her side, looked up at them. “We don’t know. Ori, can you go get my uncle or my da’?”

Nodding, he bolted towards the door of the inn.

“Is there anything I can do t’ help?” Nori questioned. He could see that Demelza was now gripping her calf with both hands; he was certain her knuckles were white inside of her gloves.

“Can you get her boot off?” As she spoke, she was reaching under Demelza’s chin, undoing the buckle of her helmet.

“ _Guðna fjandinn! Fóturinn minn líður eins og hann sé á eldi_!” Demelza hissed out. “ _Fjandinn, fjandinn_ , _fjandinn_!” Baylee was thankful that Nori didn’t understand Rohirric.

“What is she sayin’?” he asked, doing his best to be gentle as he unwrapped the strips of leather holding the sides of her boot up.

“Some very colorful words an’ that it feels like her leg is on fire.” Getting Demelza’s helmet off, she let it roll to the side while gently supporting her head in her hands. “Just breathe, auntie. Focus on your breathin’.” It was something her mother and her aunt had taught her to do if ever she got injured in battle, but had to keep fighting.

Demelza clenched her jaw and started to loudly inhale through her nose.

Getting her boot off, Nori’s frown grew. “Her ankle’s already swelling up.”

Baylee glanced down at the ankle, cringing somewhat. “That’s…not good.”

The kitchen door opened and both Warren and Ori came racing out. “What happened?” the former demanded, eyes wide as he knelt down. His brows furrowed deeply as he saw her swollen ankle.

“We’re not sure,” Baylee told him. “She had just landed a few blows against me when she cried out in pain.” She watched as her father gently started feeling along the back of Demelza’s calf.

He wore a look of concentration as he did such; as he neared the source of the pain, she swore more and tried to hit him in an attempt to get him to stop, but he merely grabbed her hand, holding it out of the way. After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Demelza, did you feel a popping sensation right before the pain hit?”

She nodded.

“That’s what I was fearin’,” he mumbled. “You’ve torn your tendon.”

Baylee’s eyes widened. “Do-does that mean auntie won’t be able to walk anymore?”

“She’ll be able t’ walk—so long as she lets it heal properly,” Warren explained. “It’s going t’ take some time for that t’ happen though.”

“It’ll need t’ stay splinted,” Ori said, “with the foot tilted down a bit.” When the others looked at him as he spoke, he shrank back slightly. “I-I tore my tendon durin’ the war. It took forever t’ heal. Remember, Nori?”

Nori nodded. “Only a wee bit. I got hit on the head pretty hard that day.”

“H-How long…will it take?” Demelza managed to ask. “Co-couple of weeks?”

“Try _months_ , Dem,” Warren sighed. “After a couple o’ weeks, should you follow my instructions, you should be able to walk again—but not much.” Being as gentle as he could, he picked his sister-in-law up off the ground and got to his feet. “Could one o’ you get the front door for me? I don’t want t’ take her in through the kitchen, lest I bump her leg.”

“I’ll get it,” said Nori before hurrying towards the door.

Sighing, Baylee rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, at least it’s nothin’ she can’t heal from,” she said. “With how she was swearin’, I could have sworn it would be somethin’ that left her lame.”

Ori lightly patted her shoulder. “Torn tendons are more annoying than anything,” he assured her. “She’ll ache for a long while, but like your father said: If she keeps t’ his instructions, she’ll be walking just fine again by winter.” He offered her a reassuring smile before leaning over and picking up Nori’s mace. “How did you like usin’ this, by the way?” he asked, hoping that the change in subject would make her a little less worried.

“I actually liked it a lot,” she answered, a small smile coming to her lips. “It’s a little short for me—which feels odd t’ say—but I liked it much better than a sword an’ shield.”

“You looked like you felt more comfortable with it.” Both turned to find Nori walking back towards them. “I think the sword an’ shield left you too encumbered. With a bludgeon or pole weapon, the weight is more evenly distributed between your limbs.”

“I could see better, too,” she chuckled, rubbing the side of her neck. “That’s one thing I don’t like about usin’ a shield—it gets in the way at times. Well, that an’ its weight.” She crouched down, picking up her aunt’s axes as well as her helmet and boot. “Maybe I’ll ask da’ about buyin’ a mace or spear o’ my own t’ practice with.” She then frowned slightly. “…Not that I’ll have anyone t’ practice usin’ it against now.”

“We can spar against you,” Ori chirped. “It’s not like either o’ us has anything better to do.”

Nori looked at his brother, a bit surprised; but then he chuckled and nodded. “Aye, we could.”

Baylee’s eyes widened slightly as she stood upright once more. “Wh-what? I couldn’t ask that o’ you two! You’re guests here, after all!”

“You’re not askin’ us, Miss Baylee,” Nori told her, amusement still in his voice. “We’re offerin’. Anyway, it’d be good for you t’ go up against different sorts o’ weapons. We wouldn’t want you t’ get used t’ only fighting against axes, after all.”

She chuckled, her brow rising slightly. “Aye, I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “Once da’s got auntie all tended to, I’ll tell him about your offer. For now, though, I should get these put away…Auntie will have my hide if I forgot them somewhere.” She moved to start walking towards the door.

“While you’re doin’ that, maybe I’ll go ask Miss Galiene if I can borrow a pot t’ make the hot chocolate,” Ori said, starting to follow after her.

“So, Dori actually let you take two bars o’ chocolate from the store?” Nori questioned, his brow cocked.

“Mhm. It took a wee bit o’ buttering him up, but he relented.” He quietly laughed. “I appealed t’ the mother hen in him.”

Baylee laughed, her head tilting slightly. “An’ just how did you do that? Brought him some eggs to sit on?” Nori and Ori burst out into a fit of laughter at her comment, bringing a proud grin to her lips.

“That was good, lass! We’re goin’ to have to tell Bofur an’ Bifur that one!” Nori cackled.

Ori nodded in agreement, still laughing. “One o’ us might have t’ try sneaking some eggs into his bed now.”

Snorting, Baylee lightly shook her head. “Don’t blame me if he doesn’t see them an’ ends up squashing them,” she giggled.

Nori excused himself for a moment, having to go take his mace back to the stables.

As she and Ori entered the building, Baylee let out an amused sigh. “Go ahead an’ get yourself somethin’ to drink. An’ tell Nori that, too. I’ll be back out in a few minutes, alright?”

“Alright. Take your time,” Ori chuckled.

Crossing the common room, she waved at a few of the regulars as well as the rangers who were off duty that day. A few of them chuckled as they saw her in the slightly too-big armor and her arms laden with the axes, but she didn’t mind—she knew she looked a bit ridiculous. When she reached the door to the private quarters, she tested the door knob to see if, perhaps, her father had left it unlocked in his hurry to get Demelza some medical attention. Finding that he had, she let out a small sigh of relief; she didn’t want to have to finagle the key out from under her shirt and into the lock while holding so much stuff.

The first thing she saw as she entered the private quarters was the surly, pained expression her aunt was wearing as she sat in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Sitting on a stool in front of her was Richard, who was currently setting a damp cloth over her swollen ankle. Warren stood next to Richard, a measuring tape in hand as he took some measurements of Demelza’s leg.

“I take it you’re goin’ to be makin’ her a brace, papa?” she asked. Setting the helmet down on a different chair, she took the axes and, having to stand on tip toe, returned them to the plaque on the wall where they normally sat.

“Aye. I figure she can’t break metal near as easily as she can break wood,” her father joked. “In all seriousness, though, she’s goin’ to need something that’ll endure her busy lifestyle. Even if she _does_ have to slow down a bit until she’s fully healed.”

“A bit?” Richard repeated, his brow rising. “Try a _lot_.” He then looked his wife in the eye. “I don’t want you walking on this for at _least_ two weeks. And I’ll most definitely know if you didn’t do as I said.” Normally, he was a soft-spoken man who wasn’t the least bit threatening. Now, however, his voice was filled with a rarely-heard sternness that made even Demelza nod in defeat.

“Aye, I won’t be standin’ on it,” she grumbled. “I want it t’ heal an’ walking on it too soon isn’t going t’ help with that…Sweetie, you can just toss the helmet onto my bed.” She gave her niece a small, but pained, smile. “I hope I didn’t scare you too bad out there…”

“It’s fine, auntie,” she promised, a reassuring smile on her lips. “Once papa said you’d be able t’ walk again, most o’ that fear went away.” She turned, leaving the family room to walk down the short hallway to her aunt and uncle’s room. Opening the door, she was greeted by the strong scent of basil and lemon—her aunt’s favorite incense. ‘I think they’ll want to open a window before they go to bed,’ she thought.

Setting the helmet on the bed, she glanced around; she didn’t often come into this room, so whenever she did, she always took a moment to stop and stare at the various Rohirric banners hanging from the walls. Many of them had scorch marks and a couple were even half destroyed by fire.

‘Sometimes I still can’t believe that enough of the original Tankard survived Smaug’s attack that we were able to salvage some things. That fire had been so hot and traveled so fast…’ she thought with a soft sigh. She closed her eyes a moment only to gasp as, for a split second, she saw the terrifying face of the dragon. Under her breath, she muttered, “ _Fjandinn_ ,” and shook her head, leaving the room.

She had gone down the other hallway and was about to enter her room when her father stopped her.

“’Lee?” he said, watching as she turned around. “With your aunt unable t’ walk for a while, could you ask Prim if she or any o’ her sisters would like t’ earn some extra pocket money by taking her place for a few months?” he asked.

“O’ course, papa,” she smiled. “I’m fairly certain Prim wouldn’t mind helpin’ at all, especially if it means gettin’ to eat fruit bread.”

A tired smile came to his lips. “Anything helps—especially with the crown prince coming t’ stay soon. We’re going t’ need the extra help.” He then rubbed the side of his neck, his smile fading. “I suppose this means you’re off the hook for sparring sessions, though.”

“Actually…Ori an’ Nori volunteered t’ help with that.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he let out a laugh. “Is that so? Those lads just keep surprisin’ me with what they’re willin’ to help with,” he chuckled. “It’ll be good for you, getting the chance t’ fight against folk who use different weapons.”

She nodded in agreement. “That’s what Nori was sayin’. He let me try out his mace for that final round with auntie, also.”

“That’s what she was sayin’. Said you were more offensive with it than with a sword an’ shield…but how did _you_ like it?”

A bit of a sheepish look overtook her features. “Enough t’ know that I’d like t’ get a spear an’ practice with that instead o’ a sword and shield.”

Warren looked more than a little surprised by this news. “Is that so?” She nodded. “Well…I’ve got an old spear in my smithy you can use. I’m not sure how blunt the spearhead is, but I can easily take it down if there’s any sharpness. If, after a few sessions, you still like it more than the sword an’ shield, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That sounds good,” she smiled. “I did really like usin’ the mace, though—I could move better with it.” Her nose scrunched up slightly as Warren knocked the top of her helmet.

“Whatever actually gets you excited for your sparrin’ sessions is fine by me,” he chuckled. “I know you don’t like them, especially with how hardcore your aunt can be. But it’s good for you t’—”

“—Know how t’ defend myself should ever the occasion arise,” she finished for him. “Aye, I know papa. But no one ever said I had t’ _like_ fighting.”

He smiled, patting her shoulder. “That’s my girl. I’ll leave you be now. I know you want t’ get this armor off an’ get back to servin’ folk.”

While he walked off, she headed into her room. Making sure the door was shut and locked behind her, she stripped out of the armor and out of her sweaty clothes. Then, lifting her arm, she sniffed to see how badly she smelled; though there was a bit of an odor, it wasn’t too bad. Regardless, she pulled a clay jar from the drawer in her nightstand and opened it to reveal a lightly-scented sage paste within.

After applying some of the paste to her underarms, she put the clothes she had worn earlier in the day back on. A sigh of content left her mouth; these were _much_ cooler than the combination of armor and wool she had been wearing just a few minutes ago. Before leaving her room, she applied a bit of her almond-scented perfume along the side of her neck, wanting to make doubly sure she didn’t smell bad.

By the time she got back out to the common room, Nori was sitting at the usual table with a mug of alcohol and some bread. Not seeing Ori, she figured Galiene had allowed him to steal a bit of stove room to make the hot chocolate. She did see Wenna tending to Abbot and Bill, though, which made her smile slightly. As the younger woman came walking towards the kitchen, two empty bowls on her tray, she started to walk alongside her.

“You heard about auntie, aye?” she asked.

“Aye, I did,” Wenna replied, frowning. “That leaves just you an’ me to tend t’ customers. I hope it doesn’t get _too_ busy tonight.”

She gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be hirin’ on extra hands in the next day or two,” she explained. “But aye, tonight, we’re on our own—unless Will wants t’ help us, which I doubt.” Pushing open the kitchen door, she let Wenna go in first.

“He’s not too bad o’ a temporary server, though,” she said. “An’ we’ve been able t’ count on him during busy times before.”

“Aye, but he’s been workin’ on building the roof for the top balcony o’ Bofur an’ Bifur’s shop. He’s going t’ be too tired tonight.”

“That’s true…At least he only has to build the frame; the tilers will be able to finish the rest,” she said with an understanding nod. “Should we ask Prim if she’d be willing to help out for a bit?”

Baylee chuckled, her brow rising. “I already planned on it. Dependin’ on how that goes, I might also ask Yllka, Vesna, an’ Jaka.”

At the last name, Wenna gave her a confused look. “Jaka? I wouldn’t have expected you to consider him for a server.” She set her tray down near the stove and picked up one of the bowls. “He’s always seemed fairly clumsy t’ me. Hello, Ori.” She smiled at the dwarf, watching as he stirred the contents of a pot. “What’re you makin’?”

“Hot chocolate,” he replied. Baylee giggled softly when she saw that he was standing on a stool.

“Ooh! Hot chocolate’s delicious!” she grinned.

Both Baylee and Ori gave her a confused look. “You’ve had hot chocolate before?” Baylee asked, her brows furrowing slightly.

Wenna nodded. “Oh, aye—my da’ made sure t’ bring some chocolate home whenever he visited Dorwinion. He could never buy much, o’ course, given how expensive it is, but he did bring enough that we were able t’ have it a few times during the winter.” She grabbed the ladle for the soup so she could refill the bowls. “Are you makin’ it with milk or cream?”

“Milk. I don’t want t’ make it too rich for a first taste.” As he looked over at the two women, he grinned. “Oh, I’m finally taller than Baylee!”

Rolling her eyes, Baylee gently nudged him. “Only because you’re on a stool,” she chuckled. Then, turning around, she looked at Galiene and Gawen. “Is there anything the two o’ you need help with?”

“Aye, there is, as a matter o’ fact!” Galiene grinned. Setting her knife aside, she crouched down and, with a small grunt, hoisted up a basket filled with apples and pears. “Tamás brought us some goodies—freshly picked from his trees this morning. He said he’ll bring us more as the season wears on.”

Ori blinked. “There are fruit trees within the city already?”

“Just a handful an’ they all belong t’ Tamás,” Gawen told him. “He had some saplings growing on the shores o’ the Long Lake when we all came up here, so after the war, he went back an’ got them. They’ve been producin’ fruit like crazy!”

“The soil up here is quite good, that’s why,” Wenna explained. She set the first bowl down and grabbed the second. “Once you get the earth aerated, you can grow lots o’ things up here. O’ course, you have t’ make sure to rotate your crops at the end o’ the season so you don’t drain the earth o’ its nutrients, but that isn’t too hard.”

Cross the room, Baylee started to wash her hands. “Wenna’s family owns one o’ the bigger farms along the southern edge o’ the mountain,” she explained to Ori, who looked rather impressed by Wenna’s knowledge. “Can I steal some o’ the apples for the cobblers, too, or do you need them for somethin’ else, Galiene?” With her hands now washed, she went over to the knife drawer and pulled out a paring knife.

“Mmm…you can take five o’ them,” the cook replied. “I do need the rest, though.”

Wenna glanced over her shoulder at her, a hopeful smile on her lips. “Are you goin’ to make apple fritters?”

A coy smile came to Galiene’s lips. “You’ll just have t’ wait and see, now won’t you?” She set the basket back down on the floor as Baylee used her foot to drag over a stool. Picking up her knife, she went back to thinly slicing parsnips.

“You _are_ going to make fritters!” It was a good thing she had set down the second bowl, because she did a little hop and excitedly clapped her hands together.

“Calm down, lass,” Galiene laughed, her brow rising. “It won’t be today, that I can promise you. But, _aye_ , I will be makin’ the fritters in the near future.”

Still beaming with joy, Wenna picked up her tray. “Waitin’ for them is going t’ be hard, but I’ll do my best t’ be patient,” she grinned before heading out of the kitchen.

Ori chuckled while he continued to stir the contents of his pot; inside, the milk was finally beginning to turn brown as the chunks of chocolate began melting. Not wanting it to scorch, he had set the pot over the coolest part of the grate. “I’ve never seen anyone get so excited over fritters before.”

“Oh, just wait until you try my aunt’s, then,” Gawen grinned. He was using his hands to mix stale bread cubes, oil, and some herbs together in a bowl. “Hers are unlike anyone else’s. They’re so light an’ fluffy an’ she cuts the apples into small pieces so you get one in every bite. Then she goes an’ coats them in sugar that’s been so finely ground, it’s basically powder.”

“That…does sound really good,” he murmured, feeling his mouth starting to water. Quickly swallowing the drool, he looked over his shoulder; he could just barely see the top of Baylee’s head as she sat at the far end of the island, peeling and coring the pears. “I don’t really remember the last time I had a fritter, but I know it had t’ be back when I still lived in Ered Luin.”

Baylee chuckled. “Well, you’re goin’ t’ be in for a treat, then,” she chirped, having to speak up a bit in order to make sure he could hear her. “At least, you will be if you manage t’ get ahold o’ one before they all get eaten.” Setting a peeled and cored pear into a large, wooden bowl, she grabbed the next one.

The doors swung open as Wenna returned. “Bofur, Bifur, an’ Will are back,” she announced, moving to grab a clean set of bowls.

“They’re early,” Ori said, his brow rising. “They’re normally not back until dinner.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure why they’re back so early. I do know that Will’s on his way t’ take a bath, though. He looked mighty sweaty an’ smelled it, too.” Bringing the bowls over to the stove, she started to fill them with soup.

“There haven’t been many days when he _hasn’t_ come back sweaty,” Gawen snickered.

“It’s good for him, though,” Galiene said. “Means he’s gettin’ plenty o’ work to do. The Valar only know how bored he got last year when he didn’t have any work.”

Baylee snorted at that. “He took up _embroidery_ , he got so bored.”

Ori nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was using. “Wh-what?! Will knows how t’ _embroider_?” he stammered in surprise.

“Aye, he does. And he got quite good at it, too!” Setting her knife down, Galiene lifted the corner of her apron and held it out, showing Ori the embroidered ‘G’ with surrounded by pots and pans. “See how lovely o’ a job he did?”

Once more, the dwarf looked impressed. “That _is_ very nice!” he agreed, his brows rising.

“He still does it from time t’ time,” Baylee smiled. “Nothin’ too intricate, o’ course. He can’t get too detailed with a needle like he can a chisel an’ hammer.”

“I would have never thought him the type t’ do embroidery. Knitting, maybe. But not embroidery,” Wenna chuckled. With the bowls filled, she grabbed a pair of spoons and a nice, crusty loaf of bread before excusing herself and leaving the kitchen.

Looking back into the pot, Ori smiled; it was dark brown in color now and the majority of the chocolate chunks were gone. He reached over and grabbed a small cup of sugar Galiene had given him, sprinkling some of it in. Dori had always taught him to add the sugar in at the beginning so it could melt as everything heated up together, but he much preferred to gradually add it in once everything else was nice and hot, since he didn’t like his nearly as sweet as Dori did.

A quiet fell over the kitchen as everyone tended to their separate duties. Galiene continued to slice parsnips, carrots, and turnips; Gawen finished coating the bread cubes in oil and was now toasting them in a wide, flat pan; Ori was slowly stirring the hot chocolate while gradually sweetening it; and Baylee was making quick work of peeling and coring the pears and five apples. Wenna would come in now and then to fetch some food or to put some dirty dishes at the sink—she would clean those in a bit—before going back out to tend to customers.

Within half of an hour, Baylee had five large, deep baking dishes filled with fruit, seasonings, and cobbler batter. She didn’t put them in the oven just yet, however; she would do such closer to dinner, as they didn’t take long to bake. They were best when served warm, anyway. She was just about to grab a tray to go see if anyone needed anything in the common room when Ori held out a mug to her.

“Ooh, thank you,” she grinned, taking it from him. She sniffed the drink first, her brows rising in pleasant surprise. Having never smelled or tasted chocolate before, she found herself unable to come up with any similar scents to compare it to. She blew across the top a few times in a futile attempt to get it to cool down faster only to give up and dare to take a sip anyway.

“Well?” Ori asked, watching her. “If it’s not sweet enough to for you, I could add a bit more sugar.”

“Oh no—this doesn’t need more sugar,” she said, a silly grin coming to her lips. “This is _delicious_!” Taking another sip, she closed her eyes. “Galiene, Gawen, you need t’ try this. It’s like drinkin’ a hug!”

At that, Ori laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard described like that,” he snorted. “But now that I think about it, you’re right: It is like a hug you can drink.” Shaking his head while chuckling, he filled up four more mugs—one for him and three for the other dwarves. “I made plenty, though, so if anyone else wants t’ try some, feel free. And there’s still plenty of the bar left if you’d like to make more. I put it in the pantry, by Baylee’s candy jar.”

Her brow rose. “Just how big are these bars you brought us?” she then asked. “Because it looks like a lot o’ chocolate went into this drink.”

“It actually doesn’t take much t’ make hot chocolate, since it’s mostly milk or cream,” he explained, hopping down from his stool. He scooted it back under the island, where he had found it. “And the bars were three pounds each.”

Baylee’s eyes widened in shock. “They’re _that_ big?! I’m surprised Dori let you part with one, let alone two!”

“Like I said, I appealed t’ the mother hen in him,” he grinned. Carefully, he grabbed all four mugs and headed for the door. With Baylee tagging along after him, he made his way over to their table.

“Ah, there they are!” Bifur grinned as he saw them. “We were startin’ t’ wonder if Miss Galiene had roped you both into helpin’ with dinner.”

“No, no, just dessert,” Baylee smiled. She glanced around the common room, finding it almost empty now. The only occupants were the dwarves, Nakara, Girish, and Wenna, who was wiping down one of the tables. As such, she sat down at the lads’ table.

“Ooh, what’d you make for that, lass?” Bofur asked. His brow rose slightly as Ori placed a mug next to his tankard of beer. “An’ what’s this, lad?”

“Hot chocolate,” Ori replied, setting a mug next to Bifur and one next to Nori. Both Bofur and Bifur made excited ‘Aha!’ sound before picking up their mugs. “Baylee’s never had it before, so I made her some.”

She giggled, her brow rising as she watched the cousins take sips of their hot chocolate and wince at the heat—only to do the exact same thing again a few seconds later. “An’ it’s pear cobbler for dessert tonight.”

At that, Bifur grinned. “Pear cobbler? That’s one o’ my favorites,” he told her.

“Eh,” Bofur said with a small shrug. “Not so much a fan o’ pears. Now _blackberry_ cobbler—actually, blackberry anythin’ is a winner in my book.”

“Then you’ll be happy t’ hear Baylee makes a damned amazing blackberry pie.” They all looked up as Will walked over. He had a small towel wrapped around his neck that he was using to dry his hair. “Come summer, no one wants her bread because they’re all wantin’ her pie. An’ with how abundant blackberries are up here…” Using his foot, he pulled a stool over and sat down beside his sister.

Baylee’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “Now that’s an over exaggeration if ever I heard one,” she chuckled. “It’s _good_ , but I wouldn’t say it’s ‘damned amazing’.” Her brow then rose as Will grabbed the leg of her stool, dragging it so that she now sat in front of him.

“We’ll be the judges o’ that once it’s blackberry season,” Nori said with a small grin. He took another drink of his hot chocolate as he watched Will start to undo Baylee’s braid.

“More like, _Bofur_ will be the judge o’ that,” Bifur chuckled. He looked at the human siblings. “We told you both how much Fili enjoys cranberries—well, Bofur’s that way with blackberries.”

A cheeky grin came to Bofur’s lips. “Doesn’t help that my mum used t’ make the most _delicious_ blackberry pie when she was still alive.” He shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth. The flavor was an odd contrast to the thick, sweet chocolate he had just sipped.

“Baylee’s pie may come very close t’ it then,” Will told him, trying to make his sister seem like even more of a romantic catch for the dwarf. Getting her hair unbraided, he did a quick finger-comb job on it before starting to section out the locks. “’Lee, do you want a single braid or pigtails?”

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m not fussy ‘bout my hair.” She took a sip of her cocoa; it was still fairly hot and she didn’t want to burn herself.

He pouted at his sister. “I know, which is why I’m always braidin’ it for you—it’s borin’ otherwise.”

“Says the lad who doesn’t braid his own hair,” Ori joked. “I’ve only ever seen it hanging loose or pulled back in a ponytail.”

“That’s because human lads aren’t exactly known for their extravagant hairstyles,” Nori reminded him. “For humans, it’s the women who should have the fancy hair.”

Will nodded in agreement. “Otherwise, I’d happily have some fancy braids in my hair. Er…that is, _if_ I knew how t’ do fancy braids. I only really know how t’ do a plain three-strand braid an’ a three-strand under-braid.”

At that, Bifur tilted his head. “You don’t know how t’ do a lace, waterfall, ladder, or fishtail braid?”

Baylee’s head tilted slightly. “I…don’t think we’ve even heard o’ those types of braids,” she admitted with a chuckle.

All four dwarves looked shocked by this confession. After all, in their culture, everyone knew how to do at least five different types of braids by the time they were ten.

After a few seconds, Bofur cleared his throat. “Guess that just means we’ll have t’ show you, doesn’t it?” he then said. Looking at Baylee, he gave her an almost shy smile. “Lass, is it alright if I use your hair t’ show your brother how t’ do the braids?”

“Feel free,” she replied, smiling as well. She wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting, but she could have sworn he had started to blush. ‘But why would he be? It’s not like _asking_ to touch someone else’s hair is considered flirty.’ Despite her thoughts, she felt her cheeks turn the slightest bit pink as he started to finger-comb her hair a bit more thoroughly than Will had.

Will, Nori, Ori, and Bifur exchanged knowing grins.

He was in the middle of showing Will how to do a ladder braid when Bofur saw some movement in the corner of his eye. Glancing at the door, he watched as Rán, Ashailyn, and Kreine entered the inn; the three of them were laughing and joking around. As the trio started to head towards their table, however, Rán slowed his pace when he saw that Bofur was braiding Baylee’s hair; his eyes narrowed somewhat and a frown came to his lips.

Meeting his gaze, Bofur merely offered a friendly smile and a small wave before showing Will how to use the ‘rungs’ of the hair ladder to make the bottom braid.

On the inside, though, he felt a strangely vindictive sense of gratification.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I left this same message on Nightmares last week, so if you read both, feel free to skip this and continue onto the story]  
> Hello my lovely readers~! I just wanted to say thank you for all your lovely comments. Even if I don't respond to them, I do read all of them and I've got them saved so I can read them when I'm offline and need a little morale boost. ❤️
> 
> I also want to let you guys know that, sometime next month, I'll be posting a new fanfiction! It'll be for Pirates of the Caribbean and it's going to be quite different from my two Hobbit fics in that it's going to be a first-person POV. So if you like PotC and are interested, keep an eye out for it~

“Of _course_ I’d be more than happy t’ help! I’ll try and get Rosemary and Rosalyn on board, too—Father’s always sayin’ how they could do with some ‘real’ work.”

A small, relieved grin came to Baylee’s lips as she, Wenna, and Primrose walked through the market together. “That is a big relief,” she chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “As you know, not only is Prince Fili arrivin’ next week, but I’ll also be goin’ down to Laketown with my uncle this year.”

Wenna nodded in agreement. “And while the dwarves are helpful blokes, I don’t think they’d want t’ help me serve our customers.” As they stopped at a vegetable stand, she started sorting through artichokes in search of the biggest and best ones. “The only drawback is that you can’t flirt with any o’ the handsome customers—an’ that includes the rangers.”

Primrose snorted at that, though she quickly tried to pass it off as if she had only let out a dainty laugh. “I’ve seen those rangers that have been staying at the Tankard. I must say, they are _very_ easy on the eyes.” She quietly giggled, sorting through the spring onions. “I guess that means I shouldn’t try to get Rosemary to help—you both know how much o’ an absolute flirt she is.”

“Rosamunde would be better,” Baylee said. She sorted through the leeks; Galiene had asked for as many large leeks as she could get. “She’s also got a better memory than Rosemary, so I’d trust her more with rememberin’ orders. Rosalyn, though, would definitely be a big help.” Rosalyn, being the eldest of Primrose’s sisters, was well known for being able to stay extremely calm when in stressful situations—and with the busy season coming up, that’s the kind of host they needed.

“Those two are more fun t’ chat with anyway,” Wenna chuckled. “With those two an’ Prim around, we’d get in some good gossipin’ during our downtime.”

It was Baylee’s turn to snort. “Just don’t gossip _too_ much, aye? Gossip can lead t’ false rumors an’ that’s not what we need our customers overhearin’… _Especially_ when Prince Fili’s here. Which reminds me, I need t’ grab more dried cranberries before next week…”

Primrose and Wenna looked at her strangely. “Why’s that?” the former asked.

“Oh, Bofur told me how much Fili adores cranberries. He took some o’ my fruit bread with him t’ Erebor and it was a cranberry-orange batch. Apparently, Fili tried t’ gobble it all up himself.”

Her eyes widening, Primrose gawked at her. “A _prince_ ate your bread?”

Wenna leaned forward, grinning at her from the other side of Baylee. “Not just a prince. Apparently _Thorin Oakenshield_ very much enjoyed it, too.”

Now Primrose’s jaw fell slack. “A _king_ ate your bread!? And he _liked_ it!? Baylee! Don’t you realize how amazing that is? Most people can only _wish_ for such a thing t’ happen!”

Baylee, however, rolled her eyes. “You two are blowin’ this way out o’ proportion,” she told them. “An’ just so you know, the king o’ Dale has eaten my fruit bread plenty o’ times an’ neither o’ you bat an eyelash at that.”

“That’s because you an’ me grew up with Bard,” Primrose pouted. “So he doesn’t count! But the king of _Erebor_ is an entirely different story.”

“Not really,” she sighed. “It’s not like it was presented t’ him on a gold plate or anything. It was sittin’ on the counter o’ Bofur’s home while his brother was welcomin’ his third daughter into the world.”

At that, both Wenna and Primrose looked a bit confused. “Why would Thorin eat something off Bofur’s counter…?” Wenna questioned.

While she knew that Primrose, like her and her family, weren’t upset anymore with Thorin and his Company for what happened those eight years ago, Baylee wasn’t quite sure on Wenna’s stance. “Bofur’s brother, Bombur, is married t’ Lady Dis’ best friend,” she explained. “As such, the two families are close an’ the royals were helpin’ tend to the rest o’ Bombur’s children.” It wasn’t at all a lie, but it did hide the fact that Bofur had been a part of the company.

“Huh. I wouldn’t have ever guessed that,” Wenna chuckled.

Pulling out the coin purse given to her by Warren, Baylee pulled out the coin needed to buy the artichokes, leeks, and other vegetables they had gathered. Before she could try paying for Primrose’s spring onions, the lass already had her own coin purse out and a ‘Ha! I beat you!’ expression on her face.

“So, the two o’ you keep telling me how handsome these Dorwinion rangers are,” Primrose said as they continued through the market. “Just how handsome are we talking? Bard level handsome? Elf level handsome…?”

“One o’ them _is_ a half elf,” Baylee chuckled, “but they’re married to one of the lasses. They’re all varyin’ levels o’ handsome, though. Well, except the women. They’re beautiful.”

“But Rán is the most handsome out o’ all of them,” Wenna said with a dreamy sigh. “He’s got this gorgeous, deep red hair that goes so well with his golden skin…an’ his smile can make any lass swoon. He’s even managed t’ make Baylee blush a time or two.”

Primrose grinned teasingly at that. “Oh? So, aye, he _must_ be handsome then!”

“That, an’ he’s been _flirtin’_ with her.”

Baylee’s brows furrowed as she looked at Wenna in confusion. “What? No, he hasn’t.”

Wenna snorted, her brow rising. “Aye, he has, ‘Lee.” She then frowned, realizing that Baylee wasn’t joking around—she was serious. “Wait, wait, _wait_ : You mean t’ tell me you _haven’t_ noticed…?”

A sigh left Primrose’s mouth. “There’s one thing you need t’ know about Baylee, Wenna, and that is she’s quite bad at telling when someone’s flirting with her.”

Her cheeks growing warm, Baylee pouted. “That’s not true! I _can_ tell when someone’s flirting with me, but it never happens, so I don’t have t’ worry about it.”

“Baylee…I’ve heard Rán outright tell you that your ‘lovely smile brightens the day’.”

She remained unconvinced. “Not t’ sound narcissistic, but over the years, a lot o’ people have told me my smile brightens their day.”

“Yes, but how many of them say it’s a _lovely_ smile?” Wenna countered. A small, victorious grin came to her lips when, glancing at Baylee, she found her mouth shut and her cheeks now burning. “That’s right. _None_ until Rán.”

Primrose giggled, her brow cocked. “He sounds like a promising beau material to me. Handsome, a warrior, knows how t’ compliment a lady…How polite is he?”

“All the rangers are extremely polite,” Baylee sighed. She still wasn’t convinced that Rán had been flirting with her, but wouldn’t press the matter. “Like the lads, they’re patient, they help clean up their messes, an’ they’re constantly sendin’ their compliments t’ Gawen an’ Galiene.”

“ _Unlike_ the lads, though, they don’t throw their food or dishes around,” Wenna chuckled.

“The dwarves _throw_ their food an’ dishes around!?” Primrose gasped, horrified by the very thought.

“It’s not what you’re thinkin’,” Wenna assured her. “Well, it is, but it _isn’t_. You’ll see when you start workin’ with us.” She then let out a hearty laugh. “You might even start throwin’ stuff t’ them like me and Baylee have started doing!”

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Baylee grinned. “Aye, you’re goin’ to _hate_ it,” she teased. “They throw almost anything—it’s quicker than just walkin’ the thing over. Once you get the hang o’ it, though, it’s not scary.”

Switching her basket to her other arm, Primrose lifted a brow. “But…if they’re sitting at a table, why do they have to throw anything at all?” she asked. “They’re right across from one another.”

“Oh, it’s not usually at their table,” answered Wenna. “They sometimes come into the kitchen an’ help cook breakfast or we’ll let them wander in t’ grab themselves a quick snack if we’re busy with a crowd.”

“It’s mostly Bofur an’ Ori who help with breakfast,” Baylee added. “When I don’t need help, though, Bofur sits with a mug o’ tea an’ talks with me while I make bread.”

“You let them into the kitchen?” Primrose gawked.

“Bofur sits an’ talks with you while you make bread?” Wenna blinked.

“Aye an’ aye. The lads have been with us for nearly three months now an’ they’ve proven themselves trustworthy enough that we let them behind the bar an’ in to the kitchen,” explained Baylee. “An’ Bofur sometimes wakes up earlier than the others, so he’ll come down an’ we’ll have a chat while he has his tea. He doesn’t go into the kitchen until I’m up, though.” She chuckled, her cheeks turning the slightest bit pink and her smile turned almost shy. “A week or two ago, I came out into the common room an’ found that he had all the chairs put down’ and had a fire goin’ in the fireplace already.”

Wenna and Primrose exchanged curious glances with one another as they saw her cheeks turn a bit pink. “What sorts o’ things do you talk about?” Wenna then asked.

She shrugged. “Any an’ everything, really. He’s told me a lot about dwarven culture, so I’ve told him about human culture…he tells me about his brother an’ his family, I’ll tell him ‘bout my cousins. Lots o’ jokes, too.” She grinned cheekily. “He’s got a real good sense o’ humor an’ he doesn’t mind if I tell a crude joke or three.”

“Baylee Braddock!” Primrose gasped, eyes widening once more. “What have I told you about tellin’ those kinds of jokes?”

“That they’re unladylike an’ unbefitting a woman of my status?” she answered with a cheeky grin.

“Exactly!” She wagged a scolding finger at her.

Wenna giggled, rolling her eyes. “Oh, go easy on her, Prim. The lads don’t find crude jokes as off puttin’ as humans would and they don’t happen very often.” She brushed a curl behind her ear as they came around a corner. Her brow then rose; this wasn’t the way back to the Tankard. “Why are we headin’ towards the eastern gate?”

“I need t’ drop something off at the shop for Will,” Baylee answered.

Primrose’s brow rose. “What is it?”

“Just some medicinal ointment. He said his nerves have been actin’ up a bit in his shoulder, so uncle made him something that should help keep the tremblin’ at bay while he works.” As they walked down the main street, she could see the shop up ahead; Will, Bofur, and Bifur were gathered around out front, where Will was using a piece of chalk to draw on the wall.

“What’re they doin’?” Primrose asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“They’re goin’ t’ be takin’ out part of the wall t’ make room for a window,” Wenna answered. As the three women drew nearer, they could see that the shape Will was drawing was nearly seven feet long and at least four high—the majority of the wall.

“That’s goin’ to be a mighty big window,” Baylee commented, giggling when the three males jumped in surprise.

Seeing who it was, Bifur smiled at the three women. “Aye. It needs t’ be nice an’ big if we want both light t’ shine in an’ people t’ see what’s inside. What brings the three o’ you lasses here?”

“A delivery for Will,” Baylee answered. She dug around inside her basket, having to move the leeks and other produce she had bought around in order to pull out a wooden box.

Will’s brow rose. “A delivery for me?” he repeated, sounding confused. “From who?” As Baylee held the box out to him, he walked over and took it.

“Uncle. He made you an extra strong batch o’ your nerve ointment,” she explained. “An’ since it’s extra strong, he said it’ll also clear up your nose if it’s feelin’ stuffed.” Glancing at Bofur, she could see that he was missing his hat, vest, and tunic, leaving him in just a sleeveless undershirt. Her head tilted ever so slightly when she saw the matching set of deep blue tattoos that covered most of his biceps and her cheeks grew a touch warm when she noticed how muscled his arms were.

No wonder that hug the other day left her feeling safe…

“Just in time,” her brother grinned. He opened the box and scooped out a little bit of the contents. “My shoulder an’ neck have been actin’ up the last few days…This stuff will be sure t’ stop that.”

Primrose made a funny face as the extremely potent scent of mint wafted past her nose. “Valar help me, that _is_ strong!” she said, waving her hand in front of her face.

“Maybe it’s supposed t’ double as a deodorant, too?” Bofur joked, a cheeky grin on his lips. He was resting his hands on the butt end of his mattock, shifting his weight from foot to foot every thirty seconds or so; the women could tell he was eager to start smashing the wall.

“If anyone needs any sort o’ deodorant out o’ the three of us, it’s going t’ be you once you get this wall opened up,” Bifur told him, his voice a bit bland.

“We were actually just startin’ to make some faux-wagers on him,” Will grinned.

“Wagers? What for?” Wenna questioned.

“T’ see how many hits it’d take Bofur t’ get through the wall,” Bifur said, also grinning.

Standing up a bit straighter and puffing his chest out in a playful manner, Bofur told them, “I think it’ll only take me three good hits t’ break through.”

“I say five at the very least,” Will snorted, his brow rising as Bofur’s posing.

Bifur shook his head. “It’ll be four solid hits, you watch.”

“With how thick that wall is, I’d also wager it wouldn’t be less than five,” Primrose chuckled. She looked at Wenna, who was nodding in agreement. “What about you, Baylee?” Her brow rose ever so slightly as she found her friend’s cheeks a bit pink. Following her gaze, she saw that Baylee had been looking at Bofur.

Baylee thought for a moment, thankful that no one had really noticed her staring at Bofur’s arms—at least, that’s what she thought. “I’m goin’ t’ say it’ll take him just two,” she then said.

Wenna shook her head, quietly giggling. “You do realize it’s nearly a foot o’ rock he’s tryin’ to get through, don’t you, ‘Lee?” she questioned.

She shrugged, smiling. “What can I say? I like t’ be optimistic.”

Will chuckled, his brow rising. “Alright. So, we’ve got three o’ us bettin’ on five hits, one on four hits, one on three, an’ one on two,” he said. “Well, guess the only way t’ find out is for him t’ take some swings.”

“Just in case somethin’ were to go flyin’ the wrong way, you lot should stand back a few yards,” Bofur said as he lifted his mattock off the ground. “I may be a professional,” he added with a playful wink, “but accidents do happen.”

Moving back a few yards as he asked, the group watched as he got himself ready. Then, lifting the mattock over his shoulder, he slowly brought it towards the wall to practice his aim.

“That should count as one!” Bifur called out jokingly.

Bofur wiggled his finger at his cousin in a jesting fashion. “Ah-ah-ah! Don’t you go tryin’ t’ cheat now, Bifur, son o’ Oved! It’s very impolite, especially when faux-wagers are involved!”

Bringing the mattock back over his shoulder, Bofur readied himself once more. Then, with a small grunt, he swung it forward with a great amount of force. As the metal collided with the rock, there was a loud, dull ‘thud’ that seemed to reverberate through both the air and the ground.

Baylee’s eyes widened, taken aback by both the sound of the impact and the sight of Bofur swinging the mattock; there was something about the way his biceps flexed as he swung that left her feeling almost mesmerized by the sight. “Yavanna’s grace…” she murmured under her breath, her head tilting slightly. She had unknowingly drawn the attention of both Will and Primrose, who glanced at her curiously. Both found that she had unconsciously started biting her lower lip and that she wore a bit of a grin.

‘Looks like my sister’s enjoying the show a little more than everyone else,’ Will thought as he barely managed to hold back a snort.

Bofur brought the mattock back over his shoulder, shifting both his stance and his hold on it. He stole a quick glance at his audience; as his eyes landed on Baylee, he thought about how she had bet it’d take only two hits for him to break through. Suddenly, he found himself not wanting her bet to be one of the losing ones. A large, determined grin came to his lips and he swung again, this time putting far more strength into it.

The mattock hit the stone a second time and, while a cloud of dust filled the air, the group both heard and felt the impact once more. However, in addition to the thud, they could also hear the sounds of rocks rolling across tile.

“Valar help me, I think he broke through,” Primrose gawked.

And indeed, he had. As the dust settled, they could see that a sizable hole had been left in the wall. Bofur wore a victorious grin, one hand on his hip and the other resting on the butt of the mattock again.

“Would you look at that?” he chirped. “Miss Baylee’s guess was right!” He peeked over at her and found her looking at him with an almost shy smile on her lips. He gave her a playful wink, feeling his cheeks grow a touch warm.

Bifur walked to the doorway and poked his head in. “Mahal’s beard, Bofur! You sent rock all the way t’ the kitchen!”

“Remind me _not_ t’ get on your bad side,” Will chuckled, walking over to the wall. Leaning over, he peered through the hole, able to see clean through it. “Two hits…Never in a hundred years would I have made such a wager.”

Wenna laughed and lightly nudged Baylee. “Remind me t’ trust you when I need t’ place a bet in the future,” she joked. “I may win some coin for once if I listen t’ you.”

Baylee, her cheeks a bit red thanks to Bofur’s wink, cocked her brow and laughed. “I don’t know why you’re all so surprised—he’s a dwarf. Dwarves are far stronger than humans.”

“Aye, but even I doubted I could get through the wall in just two hits,” Bofur admitted. “It’s been a long while since I’ve swung a mattock at somethin’ that _wasn’t_ an orc or goblin an’ they take significantly less strength t’ bring down.”

Bifur shook his head, chuckling. “If he had been Dori, on the other hand, _then_ you would have probably guessed too high,” he told them.

“Really? The fussy mother hen that’s Dori could have gotten it in one hit?” Wenna blinked. She looked at Baylee, as if expecting her to know whether he had been speaking the truth or not. Baylee, however, merely shrugged, just as shocked as her.

Both Bofur and Bifur nodded. “He’s one o’ the strongest dwarves in Erebor,” the former said.

“He could have probably _kicked_ the wall an’ left a hole in it,” Bifur added. “It’s a good thing he’s got such a long wick, because I’d be terrified o’ him if it were short.”

“No kidding—I’m kind o’ terrified o’ him right now an’ I haven’t even seen him use his strength,” Will snorted.

Baylee also laughed at his comment, her brow rising. Then, lightly shaking her head, she let out an amused sigh. “Well, we should leave you three be. We’ve got t’ get these veggies back t’ Galiene before she tans our hides an’ I’ve got my sparrin’ session with Nori in a little bit.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “By the way, it’s your choice o’ creamy chicken an’ dumplings or steak for dinner tonight.”

“Ooh, sounds like I’ll be havin’ both, then,” Bofur chirped.

“After taking down this wall? You’ll probably be wantin’ three or four servings o’ both!” Wenna joked.

“More like five or six,” Bifur snorted. “We’ll see you lasses later. An’ have fun sparrin’, Miss Baylee.”

After bidding the three males goodbye, the women turned and headed back up the sloping road towards the Tankard.

“You two get on quite well with Bofur and Bifur,” Primrose commented. She pushed a braid over her shoulder as she looked at her friends.

“They’re a friendly pair, so it’s a bit hard t’ _not_ get on well with them,” Wenna replied with a laugh. “Baylee gets along with them the best, though. Probably because she already knows a thing or two about their culture. That, or because she sees eye-to-eye with them”

Baylee snorted. “That first one is _exactly_ the reason,” she said. “Though, while Lovisa was able t’ teach us many things, the tossin’ dishes an’ food around is somethin’ that didn’t happen in the Tankard until recently—as hard as she an’ papa tried t’ get it to catch on.”

Primrose giggled. “I remember your father tossin’ Will things when your mum and aunt weren’t looking. He always tried to be so sneaky when he did it, but he’d usually get caught after the third or fourth toss.” She looked back at the path ahead as they neared the fork where they would turn. “Though, as much as Lovisa taught us about dwarves, I wasn’t aware that they had such bold tattoos.” She glanced at Baylee from the corner of her eye, a bit of a smirk coming to her lips when she saw her blush slightly.

“Oh, I know! Did you see how much ink there was in Bofur’s upper arms? There was hardly any skin color showin’, there was so much blue!” Wenna gasped. “An’ the one on his shoulder, too—I would’ve never expected him t’ have so much ink in his skin!” She shook her head.

“What about you, Baylee?” Primrose questioned.

As if coming out of a trance, Baylee looked up with wide, surprised eyes. “Sorry, what was that?”

“What did you think o’ Bofur’s tattoos?” Wenna asked, her brow rising. “Unexpected, weren’t they?” She wondered what had managed to distract her away from their conversation; when she looked around, she found that there was nothing of interest around them.

“Oh, not entirely. He mentioned to me once how common tattoos are among dwarves,” Baylee answered with a small shrug. “So, I expected him t’ have least a few. Though, I didn’t expect them t’ be so large, but they looked very well done.”

A playful and knowing smirk came to Primrose’s lips. “Is that _all_ you thought about them?”

She frowned, glancing up at her. “What do you mean? O’ course, that’s all I thought about them.” Seeing Primrose’s knowing smirk, however, made her cheeks begin to darken.

“ _Really_?” she pressed, knowing that shortly, she was going to get the truth out of her.

Wenna glanced between the two, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Al-alright, maybe I found them a _wee_ bit handsome,” Baylee admitted, pouting as she looked away.

Realizing what was going on, Wenna giggled and cocked a brow. “Ooh, so _that’s_ why you kept starin’ at him!”

“I was _not_ starin’!” Baylee countered. “I was admirin’ the tattoos, aye, but I wasn’t starin’.” The pout remained on her lips; despite her words, she knew it was useless to argue against them. She _had_ been staring and she knew it. Which baffled her, since she wasn’t the type of woman who ogled males. She could appreciate their attractiveness, yes, but gawking at them like Wenna when she sees as shirtless male elf?

“It certainly _looked_ like you were staring,” Primrose teased.

“I’m sorry, ‘Lee, but I have t’ agree with Prim. You were definitely staring—which is totally fine, mind you. Some women find tattoos t’ be handsome things.”

Rolling her eyes Baylee let out a heavy sigh. “Even _if_ I was starin’, why is it such a big deal? They were very well-done tattoos! An’ it’s not like I get t’ see tattoos often, considerin’ most folk who wear them aren’t the types t’ frequent the Tankard.” Her brows furrowed; as they got closer to the inn, she started to hear the sound of metal on metal. It wasn’t the deep, hard ‘clang’ of her father’s hammer on his anvil, however. ‘Maybe someone else is having a sparring session for once?’ she thought.

Within just a few minutes, they were walking through the archway into the courtyard. All three women stopped in their tracks, however, and their eyes widened as they did, indeed, find different people sparring for once. In the middle of the courtyard were Rán, Nakara, and Aizik. The latter was leaning against the well as they watched Rán and Nakara fight against one another. Rán, they saw, was using a bastard sword while Nakara had a pair of long, curved daggers. Their movements were so fluid and so quick, it almost looked as if they were dancing around one another.

But the duel alone wasn’t what held their attention: There was also the fact that both males were wearing tunics with deep V-necks that revealed, not just their muscled arms, but a fair bit of their torsos as well. The women were continuously granted glimpses of the chests and stomachs beneath as the two kept on moving around one another.

“Alright,” Baylee murmured, her head tilting, “ _now_ I’m staring.” She bit her lower lip, unable to stop herself from following the trail of auburn hair that led up Rán’s abdomen before spreading across his chest. Every now and then, the sun’s light would hit him just right and she could see a scar or two beneath the tunic.

Part of her started to wonder if, perhaps, Bofur’s chest was similar in appearance…

“You’re not the only one,” Wenna murmured, her eyes wide.

“…It’s very unladylike, but I can’t help but stare, either,” Primrose mumbled. “If these two are any indication, then aye, the rangers stayin’ here _must_ be attractive…”

“Those two are the most handsome,” Wenna spoke again. “Seein’ them spar like that, though, tells me they have t’ have _definitely_ been blessed by Tulkas an’ Nessa. Tulkas gave them those warrior bodies an’ Nessa gave them her speed an’ dancing with those blades.”

“Oh no…there’s definitely some o’ Mahal’s handiwork going on with Rán,” Baylee told them.

Finally forcing her eyes away from the sight, Primrose looked over at Baylee. “Who’s Mahal?”

Baylee cleared her throat; she was so used to hearing ‘Mahal’ instead of Aulë thanks to the lads that she had started using the name. “Sorry about that…‘Mahal’ is the dwarvish name for Aulë.”

“An’ boy, did he take his time with that one,” Wenna grinned, her eyes still fixed on the rangers.

Baylee opened her mouth to speak when Rán glanced over at the three of them. Only, she quickly realized that he wasn’t looking at all three of them—he was specifically looking at _her_. Their gazes locked for just a few split seconds and he flashed her a smile that was both extremely handsome and gentle. Then, turning his attention back to Nakara, his smile turned into more of a smirk as he deflected a blow.

“And you said he _wasn’t_ flirtin’ with you,” Wenna giggled, her brow rising.

“H-He just smiled is all!” Baylee countered, her cheeks bright red. “That’s _not_ flirtin’.” Shaking her head, she made to head towards the door of the inn; despite her words, her stomach felt very fluttery and light all of a sudden. “We should get these vegetables in t’ Galiene.”

Primrose quietly laughed, a knowing look on her face. “Aye, we should. We also need to find your dad so we can tell him that I’ll be helping out.” Lightly grabbing Wenna’s wrist, she pulled the younger woman along with her as she started to walk.

“B-b-but can’t we watch them a little longer?” Wenna pouted. “Baylee might learn a new move or three!”

At that, Baylee snorted and looked over her shoulder. “I can learn a new move or three when I go t’ spar with Nori later,” she replied. Opening the door, she stepped into the inn only to be greeted by the unusual sight of the common room being nearly empty. “Huh…wonder where everyone’s at?” she thought aloud.

As they came in behind her, Wenna and Primrose found that the room only had four occupants: Nori, who was writing in a journal at the usual spot; Abbot and Bill, who were playing cards and snaking on fruit bread; and Warren, who was cleaning mugs behind the bar.

Warren looked over at them, smiling. “Ah, there you lasses are!” he chuckled. “An’ you brought Prim an’ Proper with you! Has Baylee told you ‘bout our little predicament yet?”

“Aye, she has,” Primrose replied with a smile, “and I’ll be more than happy t’ help out for as long as you need, Mister Braddock. I’ll also be asking Rosamunde an’ Roslyn if they’d be willing to help when I get home tonight.”

A relieved laugh left his mouth. “Good, good…I’ll be payin’ you lasses, of course. I’m not goin’ to let any of you get away with free labor—I can only do that with my own kids.” He grinned as Baylee leaned over the counter and gave him a light smack on the arm.

Primrose laughed, her brow rising. “When would you like us to start, by the way?”

Warren ran a hand through his hair as he thought her question over. “T’ be honest, as soon as possible. Would tomorrow be alright for you?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “What time should we get here?”

“At the crack o’ dawn,” Wenna joked, grinning as Baylee nudged her.

“Eight is when the hostesses are needed,” Warren chuckled. “If things get busy before then, I’m sure ‘Lee can rope the lads in t’ help her.”

She pouted playfully. “The lads are our _guests,_ papa. I’m not about t’ ask them t’ help me tend t’ other patrons.”

“An’ if we offer?”

A squeak left Baylee’s mouth and she turned around, seeing Nori standing there, wearing an amused look. Primrose, Wenna, and Warren were doing their best to not laugh—they had seen him coming.

“Sorry, Miss Baylee,” he chuckled. “I hadn’t meant t’ startle you.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a small laugh. “Do you need your tankard refilled?”

“That’s part o’ it,” he admitted. “I was also comin’ over to ask when you wanted t’ spar. I know the courtyard’s currently occupied…”

Warren frowned slightly. “Those three are _still_ at it?” He went over to the window and peered out of it; he was just in time to see Rán holding the blade of his sword to Nakara’s neck. He then stepped away to sheath his weapon while saying something to Nakara and Aizik. “Ah, looks like they’re actually finishin’ up now.”

“Would half an hour or so work for you?” Baylee asked Nori.

He nodded. “Aye, it would. Gives me time t’ drink another tankard or two o’ cider,” he grinned. “Will you be usin’ a sword, by the way?”

“A spear, actually,” Warren answered for her. “I’ve got an old one in my workshop I’m going t’ let her use. It should be able t’ last a week or so if Demelza’s not the one wailing on it.”

Primrose looked at Baylee, a bit confused. “A spear? But I thought you used a sword an’ shield?”

“Nori let me use his mace yesterday an’ I found out I much prefer usin’ a pole weapon as opposed t’ a sword and shield,” Baylee explained. “I’ll be heading over to Erebor in three days so I can commission a spear that’s more my height. I also need t’ look around for a birthday present for Will.”

Nori scratched his chin, having to bite back a grin as a mischievous idea came to him. “You may want t’ ask one o’ the lads to go with you then,” he told her. “Not only do we know the city, but we can also make sure no one tries t’ cheat you out o’ your money.”

Wenna nodded in agreement. “That’s actually a good idea, Nori,” she said. Then, looking at Baylee, she suggested, “Why don’t you ask Ori t’ go with you?”

At that, Nori winced slightly. “Ah…I actually _don’t_ recommend Ori,” he said. “Bein’ that he’s more of an artist an’ scholar, he’s not too good when it comes t’ knowing the price or quality o’ weapons. I’d go with you, but I’ve got an appointment that day.”

She tilted her head. “Then who would be better t’ ask: Bofur or Bifur?”

“T’ be honest? Bofur. He’s a good haggler an’ he’s got a few relatives in the smithing district. He’d definitely be able t’ get you a good deal on a good weapon.” From the corner of his eye, he could see the _slightest_ hint of a grin on Primrose’s lips and he wondered if, perhaps, she somehow knew what he was up to? “The only downside t’ having him tag along is he might drag you t’ the Ur mansion for lunch, where Gerdi will make you eat until you can’t move.”

At that, Baylee laughed, her brow rising. “From what I’ve heard about her an’ Bombur’s cooking, that doesn’t seem so bad.” Her attention was suddenly pulled towards the kitchen door, where Galiene was leaning out.

“Hey, you lasses! I could really do with those vegetables about now,” she said, her tone mock-scolding. “I can’t make this potato-leek soup without those leeks!”

Wenna laughed, though her cheeks turned a light shade of pink in embarrassment. “Sorry, Galiene. We didn’t mean t’ get sidetracked.”

Excusing themselves, the lasses crossed the room. Taking Baylee’s basket from her, Wenna headed into the kitchen while Baylee led Primrose to the private quarters. Demelza was nowhere in sight, which surprised her niece a bit—but also made her a bit glad. When she last saw her, she had been quite cranky thanks to the pain in her leg.

“So you get a full day off and you’re going t’ spend it all in Erebor?” Primrose asked as they entered her friend’s room.

“I don’t really plan on spendin’ the _whole_ day there,” Baylee chuckled, her brow rising as she locked the door. “Though, Nori’s right—if Bofur were the one t’ come with me, that may end up happening. But I don’t think I’d mind too much.” Going to the trunk at the foot of her bed, she knelt down and opened it.

Setting her basket down on the floor, Primrose tucked her dress under herself as she sat down on the bed. “Why’s that? Because you’d get to be the tallest one for the day?” she teased. She grinned cheekily as Baylee half-pouted at her from behind the lid of the trunk.

“No. It’d be because I think it would be fun, gettin’ shown around by a dwarf,” she explained. She rummaged through the trunk, which mostly contained random pieces of armor. Finding her gambeson, she pulled it out and tossed it onto the bed; something told her that Nori wasn’t going to be nearly as tough on her as Demelza would be, so she didn’t bother pulling out the second, thinner padded tunic she sometimes wore under the gambeson. “And if Bofur agrees t’ come with, I know I’m probably going t’ spend a good portion of the day laughin’.” She also tossed her helmet onto the bed.

“Speakin’ of Bofur…”

“If you’re going t’ tease me about earlier—”

“I’m _not_. I have a genuine question about him.”

Baylee gave her a wary look while closing the trunk. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “Ask.” Standing up, she went over to her dresser to search for one of her old tunics.

“I swear to you, I’m _not_ teasing you when I ask this: Do you find him handsome?” Watching as her friend knelt down to sort through a drawer, she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. But Baylee said nothing.

After many minutes and just when Primrose was about to give up hope of receiving an answer, Baylee stood up, a dress in hand. “Aye, I find him handsome,” she finally admitted, using her foot to close the drawer. “An’ not just because of his bare arms an’ tattoos.”

“That part I knew,” Primrose chuckled, her brow rising. “So what is it, then?”

“Prim, you know me well enough by now.” She pulled her dress up and over her head; the two of them had undressed in front of each other plenty of times throughout their lives, leaving her with little shame about it. “It’s his smile…an’ the way it makes his eyes crinkle up an’ brings out his dimples…” She bit her lower lip, a small smile and some color coming to her cheeks as she pictured the dwarf. “It’s just so—so _genuine_. How can I _not_ find it handsome?”

She smiled, her brow rising; it had been a long while since she had last heard her go on about a man’s smile. “Rán’s got himself quite the handsome smile, too. Personally, I find it to be far more attractive.” As Baylee sat down on the edge of the bed, she did her best to not stare at her friend’s scars. Though she had been the one to help change her bandages after the war, she never got used to seeing them. Out of all of them, though, she thought the puncture marks were the worst, but not because of their appearance. It was because they had nearly killed Baylee when they became infected.

“Aye, he does…but the one he most often wears is a different sort o’ handsome.” Sighing, she pulled the tunic on over her head, using her hand to make sure the fabric didn’t get caught on her ear cuff.

“Oh?” Reaching over, she pulled her hair out from beneath the tunic.

Baylee nodded, bringing a leg up and tucking it under her other leg. “Mhm. His is more…more charming. It’s the smile o’ someone who knows he’s attractive an’ can use that to his advantage if he needed to.” She sat still as Primrose started to braid her hair. “But, that’s not t’ say it’s _always_ charming. I have seen him wear a genuine smile quite often…I daresay that one’s more handsome.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s—it’s gentler, I guess you could say. Gentler an’ more genuine.”

“An’ when have you seen this gentler smile o’ his?”

“…To be honest, usually when there’s not too many other people around. But, that’s a bit understandable; he’s a ranger, so I imagine he’s got his guard up a lot o’ the time.”

Her brow rose and an amused smile came to Primrose’s lips. “Oh? And just when do these times happen?” she lightly teased.

Baylee’s cheeks turned a bit red. “Well…Rán’s started comin’ down to the kitchen in the mornings, too. Usually the mornings when Bofur sleeps in a bit. An’, before you ask, _yes_ we end up chatting a lot.”

“About what sorts o’ things?”

She shrugged. “Like with Bofur, anythin’, really. But with Rán, the conversation are more…more informative, I guess you could say. He’s told me about Dorwinion, I’ve told him about Laketown an’ Dale…He tells me about some o’ his and his rangers’ adventures an’ I tell him about legendary figures from our histories.” She shifted slightly, pulling her leg up and resting her knee on it. “While we talk, he insists on helping me with my breadmaking—which, by the way, took me by surprise. Turns out, before becomin’ a ranger, he was apprenticed t’ a baker.”

Primrose chuckled, trying to picture such a handsome man kneading dough. “Do you enjoy your conversations with the two o’ them?”

“I enjoy them quite a bit. I like learnin’ about their cultures an’ hearing their stories. And…they both actually _listen_ to what I say.”

Primrose’s brow rose. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know how you could be talkin’ with someone, but it seems like they’re not entirely paying attention to you or care about your end o’ the conversation? Talking with them is the opposite. I can tell they’re listenin’ and that they actually care about what I have t’ say.” She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. “I know what you’re tryin’ to get at, by the way.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re tryin’ to gauge whether or not I have a crush on either o’ them.”

Her cheeks grew hot and she pouted. “Pardon me, but I’m _also_ trying to determine whether or not either o’ them is crushing on _you_.”

Baylee snorted. “An’ have you come to a determination yet?”

“I have, as a matter of fact. And I have concluded that the three of you are in what’s known in the literary world of romance as a ‘love triangle’.”

She turned her head, looking at Primrose with a cocked brow. “A…love triangle?” she replied, not sounding very impressed by her answer.

“Mhm.” She gently forced Baylee to look ahead of her once again. “It simply means that you’re attracted t’ both males and both males are attracted to you. Because of this, you’re stuck at the top of the triangle, trying to decide which male would make for a better beau—and potential husband. Meanwhile, they’re at the bottom of the triangle, fighting each other for your affections.”

“You’re joking, aye?” She snorted, her brow cocked. “Bofur’s not attracted t’ me.”

Primrose pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed. “Baylee Braddock, are you doubting my judgement?”

“Only because I don’t see how you could come t’ the conclusion that Bofur’s attracted t’ me.”

Her lips still pursed, she continued braiding her hair. “There have been instances,” she replied. “The first time I met him—the day we picked up your new clothes—your dad had you do that spin to show off your new dress? He wore a large, goofy grin—the kind men wear when they’ve gotten themselves into a crush. An’ almost every time you’ve talked about him, you’ve mentioned how he does things for you without you asking him to. And _most_ recently, today: Before he took his second swing, he looked at you an’ I swear, he mustered up all of his strength just t’ ensure that you had the winning bet, even though there was nothing at stake.”

Baylee was quite for a few minutes. “…Yo-you’re certain about all o’ that?” she quietly asked.

“Aye.” Finishing with the braid, she let out a small sigh and set a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright if you haven’t noticed his infatuation,” she gently assured her. “He’s definitely more subtle about it. To be honest, I don’t think he even knows he fancies you just yet. Or, if he does, he’s _very_ good at hiding it.”

She bit her lower lip. “All this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” she mumbled.

Primrose frowned. “What do you mean?”

“…Auntie’s been pressurin’ papa t’ pressure me t’ find myself a husband,” she explained. “You know how she is about keepin’ up appearances. Apparently, with me turnin’ thirty this year an’ being unwed, it gives off some sort of bad impression. I’m not sure how, considerin’ how you an’ Rosamunde are _also_ unwed and come from a better family.”

She gently squeezed Baylee’s shoulder. “And because of this, you’re wondering if your crushes on Bofur an’ Rán are genuine or just you unconsciously forcing yourself to be interested in them.”

“That and…why me? Rán’s ridiculously handsome an’ Bofur’s one of the heroes o’ Erebor. Why would either o’ them fall for me? It doesn’t make sense!”

“It doesn’t make sense to _you_ , but that’s because you’re hypercritical o’ yourself. We all are—it’s natural. But they’re seein’ you from a completely different perspective. I can’t speak for either of them, but what I _can_ say is that the Baylee they see is the sort of woman they want to be with. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be interested in you.”

Her cheeks grew a bit pink, but a small smile came to Baylee’s lips. “So…what do I do? I take it I don’t want t’ let either of them know that I know they fancy me, right?”

She nodded. “You don’t want them trying to compete against one another—at least, not consciously. They may start behavin’ differently and then that’ll just skew things. Just…keep being yourself. _You’re_ not the one trying to win over someone’s heart; you’ve already done that. It’s your job t’ decide which one gets your heart.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later found Primrose, Baylee, and Nori stepping out into the courtyard, where they found Rán, Aizik, and Nakara still sitting by the well; Ashailyn and Kreine were now with them. Rán, they saw, had a dark bruise lining his cheek now, though he seemed to still be in good spirits.

“Wonder how he got that?” Primrose murmured.

“That’s a good question,” Baylee replied. She hid it well, but now that she knew the rangers would be watching her and Nori, she felt nervous. They were professional warriors, after all, and she had the feeling they would be judging her quite harshly. “Are you going t’ stay and watch or are you goin’ to head home?”

A mischievous smile came to Primrose’s lips. “I’ll be staying to watch, of course. Maybe work up some courage to go talk to that Aizik fellow…”

Baylee snorted, rolling her eyes. “They’re married, remember? Be right back,” she said before crossing the courtyard to her father’s smithy. She pulled a key from around her neck—a different one from the key used for the private quarters—and unlocked the door. Stepping into the smithy, she was greeted by darkness, the smell of coke, and the smell of earth. The room was also rather cool, since it hadn’t been used in a few days; normally when she came here, it was sweltering hot.

‘Let’s see…Papa said he put it by the coke bin,’ she thought, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Carefully picking her way around a workbench and an anvil, she soon reached the large, wooden box that sat near a decent sized furnace. ‘Aha, there it is.’ She grinned, seeing the outline of the pole weapon. After grabbing hold of it and checking to make sure the spearhead was dull, she made her way back through the forge.

By the time she had returned to Primrose’s side, Nori had returned from the stables. She was surprised to see that he had more than just his mace—he was currently wrapping some rags around an angularly curved knife. Sitting on the windowsill was a matching knife, already wrapped up.

“You’re going t’ use knives, too?” she asked, her head tilting.

He nodded, glancing up at her as he finished tying off the leather cord. “Aye. I thought we’d start up with a bit o’ a warm up of me showin’ you how t’ better use that spear,” he told her, “then, after we’ve done a proper round of fighting, I’ll switch to my knives. They’re my preferred weapon and should be an interestin’ challenge for you.” As he spoke, he wore a bit of a grin.

“Sounds good t’ me,” Baylee smiled, rubbing the side of her neck. She stole a glance over at the rangers, who were positioning themselves so they would all be able to watch. Her gaze fell on Rán for a few seconds only to find that he was wearing a fond smile.

It was a struggle to not blush.

As if sensing her nervousness, Nori said, “Do your best t’ ignore them,” he told her, setting the knife on the windowsill. “I know havin’ an audience is going to make you feel awkward, but if you focus on them too much, then you won’t be able t’ concentrate on the lesson.”

Now her cheeks did turn a bit pink. “I’m trying,” she told him with a small chuckle. “T’ be honest, I’m used to having an audience—but usually, those audiences are comprised o’ friends and family.”

“And _not_ beautiful Dorwinion rangers?” he joked, taking both Primrose and Baylee by surprise. Seeing their expressions, he snorted. “What? Just because I’m a dwarf doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty in other races. Aye, those rangers could use a wee bit more hair on their faces and be a foot shorter, but they’re still very aesthetically pleasin’.” He then motioned for Baylee to follow him to the middle of the courtyard so they could start her lesson.

As she watched Baylee learn the techniques for using a spear, Primrose leaned back against the wall of the inn, her hands tucked behind her. Quite often, though, she found herself looking past her friend at the rangers, but it wasn’t because they were attractive. Knowing that his gaze would be transfixed on Baylee, she was carefully watching Rán’s face, wanting to assess whether his crush on Baylee was genuine or not.

‘The last thing Baylee needs is to get her heart broken again,’ she thought. ‘Bard left her devastated when he chose to marry Rowena—he took us _all_ by surprise with that one. He and Baylee had been so in love…I told him to wait just another month or two, but did he listen?’ Closing her eyes for a moment, she rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh.

Upon opening her eyes again, she could see that Rán’s expression had turned from one of fondness to one that was dreamy and somewhat far-off. In place of his usual, charming smile, the one he wore now was a bit silly.

‘Oh, now I’ve yet to see Bofur look at her like that…’ she told herself, smiling. ‘I’m actually not quite sure why Baylee isn’t head-over-heels for him. He’s handsome, he’s a gentleman, he’s strong…I know she doesn’t care much about such things, but with him being captain of the rangers, that would be a good match socially, too. I’m sure even Demelza would approve of such a pairing…’

Baylee, however, was oblivious to both Primrose’s thoughts and Rán’s expression. By this point, she was fighting her third bout against Nori, who was using his knives. While she found it easier to go against him than going against her aunt, it was still a challenge. The spear could put a bit of distance between them, yes, but it also left opportunities for Nori to get in close, forcing her to use the spear more defensively. She did, however, find it a bit hard to be offensive—Nori wore no armor or padding, making her hesitant to actually hit him and led to her losing the first match with him using the knives.

“You’re hesitating whenever you’ve got a chance t’ hit me,” he stated, his brow raised. He was breathing a bit heavily, but wasn’t winded. “Why is that?”

She was thankful her cheeks were already red from exertion. “You’re not exactly armored,” she admitted. “I don’t want t’ hit you too hard an’ hurt you.”

Nori looked a bit taken aback by her answer; after a few seconds, though, he let out a hearty laugh. “I’m wearin’ four or five layers o’ cloth, lass,” he told her. “I’ve got plenty o’ padding t’ handle gettin’ hit. So long as we adhere t’ the no head blows rule, I’m sure I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“An’ even if you do hit his head, his big hair will cushion it!”

Both Nori and Baylee (as well as the rangers and Primrose) blinked in confusion before looking up to the second-floor balcony of the inn, where Ori was standing. He wore a cheeky grin as he waved down at them.

“Oi! How long have you been up there?” Nori called, his brow cocked.

“A few hours.” He then turned his gaze more towards Baylee. “Don’t be afraid t’ use your fists an’ legs when he gets in real close, ‘Lee!”

Nori looked impressed. “That’s actually fairly solid advice, so it’d be good for you t’ listen to it.”

“I’ll do my best,” she chuckled, her brow raised. “Thanks, Ori!” She smiled when he gave her a double thumbs’ up.

“Now that you know not t’ hold back, are you ready t’ start round four?” Nori asked her, an amused smile on his lips.

She nodded. “Aye, I think so.”

“Then get into position.”

The two of them walked about seven feet apart and readied themselves; Baylee took on a more defensive stance with her hands spaced out along the spear whereas Nori took on an offensive one with one knife raised to the height of his shoulder and the other by his waist. When he called out ‘go’, however, rather than attacking, the two of them started to circle one another. They had done this the first two times, waiting to see who would strike first; it had been Nori before. This time, however, it was Baylee.

She took a step forward, bringing the butt end of the spear towards Nori. He blocked the blow with one knife, twisting out of the way and using the other to try and hit her. She was able to bring the spear around and block him, however, while also taking a step back to get some distance between them once more.

Nori came at her now. He kept one knife raised while the lower one he used to feint a blow at her legs. When Baylee made to block it, he brought the other knife towards her, but once more she twisted the spear around, parrying and then riposting. He hopped to the side, avoiding getting the spearhead smacked into his gut.

“You’re bein’ more offensive this time around,” he grinned as they started to circle one another again.

“It’s a little easier when I’ve got better control o’ the weapon,” she chuckled. “An’ when I’m not as scared t’ hurt you.” Glancing over, she could see the rangers still watching her. She swallowed hard, feeling some color coming to her cheeks.

“Ignore them, lass,” Nori told her, having seen her look over. For emphasis, he took a step forward, feinting a blow to get her attention back on him.

It worked, because she instinctively raised the spear, her eyes widening a bit in surprise. “S-sorry,” she said when she realized it was a feint.

“Normally t’ help calm your nerves, I’d tell you t’ just picture them all in their underclothes, but something tells me that’d only make you all the more flustered.” He grinned as she playfully pouted and went for his legs. “At least it’s not Bofur an’ Bifur who’re here. Otherwise, I would tell you t’ do that and then you’d probably be left with a rather large mental scar.”

She snorted, doing her best to block a volley of blows he threw at her. “I highly doubt it’d be _that_ bad.” Spinning out of the way, she managed to smack Nori on the thigh.

“That’s what _you_ think,” he laughed, quickly turning around to face her. It was now his turn to deflect a barrage of attacks from her. “I’ve seen them both in naught but their skin, lass. It wasn’t very pretty.”

For a second, Baylee’s mind was filled with the sight of Bofur in just the sleeveless shirt, a broad grin on his lips thanks to his success at knocking down the wall.

Baylee suddenly swore as she doubled over; the image of Bofur had made her hesitate, giving Nori the opportunity to elbow her in the gut. With another hit, he knocked the spear from her hand and sent her down to the ground, where she landed hard on her back. The pain from both hits cleared her mind in time to see one of his knives came rushing down towards her in an attempt to get the winning ‘stab’.

Rolling out of the way, she saw that she had rolled in the opposite direction of her spear. Now Nori stood between her and it, leaving her defenseless. Scrambling to her feet, she was forced to duck and weave her way out of ‘danger’ as the dwarf delivered another flurry of blows.

She took them both by surprise when she was able to catch one of Nori’s wrists. Before he had time to process what she had just done, she spun them around in a semi-circle as if they were dancing. It switched their places and now, with an opening, Baylee was able to run back and grab her spear.

“That was tricky of her,” Kreine commented, her brow rising in amusement. She spoke in their native tongue; it was easier to use for casual conversation than Westron was.

“And risky. He’s a dwarf—he could have easily overpowered her and left her on her ass,” Ashailyn said, sounding a bit impressed.

Aizik shook their head. “She used her size and strength to take him by surprise. Due to how much weaker she is compared to him, he wasn’t expecting her to try grabbing him, let alone spinning him around like that. I know I wouldn’t have expected such a thing.”

“No. It was just sheer, dumb luck that it happened that way,” Nakara scoffed. “Didn’t you see? She was just as shocked as he was. She reacted faster than he could is all.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why a little thing like her would want to fight anyway. Look at her. She’s clearly more suited for her inn work and _not_ battle.”

“Don’t let Fifika hear you say that,” Kreine told him, her voice bland. “I think she’s a decent fighter. It’s clear she’s got some skill about her, but you also must remember, this is her first day with a spear. She had been using a sword and shield before. And from what I saw of that, she has the makings to be a fairly good warrior. Master Nori, on the other hand, is _clearly_ extremely skilled when it comes to fighting and with using a variety of weapons.”

As the others continued to discuss the fight taking place in front of them, Ashailyn cocked her brow as she looked down at her sibling. She saw the dreamy look on his face and quietly snorted before nudging him with her hip. “Rán, you’re practically drooling at the sight of her.”

Coming out of his thoughts, he straightened up slightly. “Sorry, what was that?”

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “You were staring so hard at your little inn maiden that you were practically drooling,” she repeated.

He frowned, his brow rising. “I was not.”

“Yes, you were,” she chuckled. “It’s alright though; I’m sure she stared plenty hard at you while you and Nakara fought.” Reaching over, she lightly poked the exposed bit of Rán’s chest. “I know for a fact you wore this in hopes of her seeing the two of you duel.”

A small smirk came to his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with giving her a glimpse of what could be hers.”

“Which leads me to wonder why in the world Nakara is wearing the same tunic,” Ashailyn commented, her voice a bit louder so the others could hear. “Who’re you showing off for, ‘Kara? Lady Wenna? Or, perhaps, you’re hoping some beautiful woman comes here to dine only to spot you in this tunic and fall head over heels for you?”

Nakara’s cheeks darkened, a frown on his lips as he glanced away from her. “Or, perhaps, it’s because I get hot when sparring and didn’t want to sweat all over my usual clothes?” he put forth, his voice dry.

Rán’s brow rose slightly; unlike his sister, he knew very well that Nakara had been hoping _she_ would be the one to swoon over him. He lightly shook his head and looked back at Nori and Baylee in time to see Baylee knock Nori’s feet out from underneath him; she had her spear at his throat before he landed. Though he wanted to let out a cheer for her, he knew that would be too much. As such, he opted instead for clapping.

Panting quietly, Baylee looked up as she heard the clapping and, seeing that it came from Rán, her stomach jumped slightly. She held a hand down to Nori, helping him back to his feet.

“That was actually fun,” she told him, sounding a bit winded. Despite the lack of breath, she wore a smile. “And not just because I won.”

“I’m sure it helps that I wasn’t comin’ after you like you were an orc or goblin,” he told her, brushing himself off. “No offense to your aunt, o’ course.”

She chuckled, using the spear to keep her somewhat propped up. “Ah, don’t worry—I fully agree with you.” She glanced over as Primrose walked over.

“I must say, Baylee, you do work better with a spear,” she smiled. “Though I’m afraid I won’t be able t’ stay for the rest o’ the matches. I just remembered that mother wanted me t’ stop by the bakery and get a few things for dinner.”

Baylee nodded in understanding. “That’s alright. I’ll be seein’ you nice an’ early tomorrow, anyway.” She grinned, though her brow rose slightly as Primrose leaned over.

“Rán’s been starin’ at you the whole time,” she quietly said beside her ear, “and he’s been wearing a dreamy smile.” As she stood upright once more, a playful grin was on her lips.

Nori’s brow had risen slightly; he had been able to hear the words ‘Rán’, ‘staring’, and ‘dreamy’. Pretending to brush a bit more dirt from his tunic, he stole a look over at the rangers. He found that Rán was watching them—or, rather, watching _Baylee_. A small frown came to his face. ‘Looks like Bofur’s got himself a rival for his little inn maid. That’s not good; that’s the last thing he needs when Mahal’s given him a Second Chance.’ He then looked up at his brother, finding that he was still watching, too. ‘Hm…Maybe I could rope Ori and Bifur into some sort of plan…’

“Nori? Is everything alright?” He came out of his thoughts, finding Baylee looking at him with some concern on her face.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I was just thinking this would probably be a good place t’ call it quits for the day,” he told her. “I know we only had a few matches, but they were fairly long ones. Plus, it’ll be dinner soon an’ you’ll want t’ get cleaned up.”

She nodded in understanding. “Sounds good t’ me. This gambeson’s getting stupidly warm anyway,” she chuckled.

“I believe it,” he snorted. “You’re basically wearin’ a very tightly sewn quilt. It’d get warm even in winter!” He lightly patted her on the back. “You did well, by the way. For only just properly switchin’ today, you’re getting a handle on this spear pretty quick. You sure you haven’t used one before?”

A sheepish smile came to her lips. “I haven’t used a spear before, no, but ah…When we were younger, Will an’ me would sometimes spar against one another with brooms as our weapons. They were always too long for me t’ use as a sword, so I pretended it was a halberd.”

His brow rose and he let out a hearty laugh. “Now _that_ had t’ be amusin’ to see,” he laughed. “I bet you could have never guessed that your playin’ make-believe would come in handy as an adult.”

She laughed, nodding in agreement. “Aye, you’re right there,” she said. “Now if only it could have made it faster t’ sweep!”

He snorted, shaking his head. The two of them moved towards the stables and smithy so they could return their weapons. By the time Nori emerged from the stables, Baylee was already out of the smithy and was across the courtyard, Rán at her side as she headed for the kitchen door. A small frown came to his face and he looked up at the second floor, seeing that Ori had returned to his drawing.

‘He can help me come up with something for sure,’ he thought, heading into the inn. Crossing the common room, he saw Wenna tending to Abbot and Bill; Warren was nowhere to be found.

Soon enough, he was stepping out onto the second-floor balcony, where he found Ori packing up his things. His brother looked at him and cocked his brow when he saw the serious look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing upright once more. “You always wear that expression when something’s wrong.”

“Before I tell you, I need to ask you something,” Nori replied, speaking in Khuzdul. With Aizik being a half elf, he knew there was a strong chance their conversation could be overheard. “Have you noticed how Bofur and Baylee get around each other?”

Ori snorted. “Of course I have, Nori. It’s hard not to notice when they’re making each other blush all the time.” He brushed a braid out of his face. “They get along so well, I’m surprised he hasn’t asked her if she would like to start courting yet.”

“That’s the problem,” Nori sighed, “because Rán’s fallen hard for her, too. And I think she’s crushing on him _as well_ as Bofur.”

His eyes widened and he looked at his brother in disbelief. “You—you’re joking, right? But this is Bofur’s Second Chance! We can’t let it get away!”

“ _Exactly_. Which is why we need to make sure that it’s _Bofur_ who wins her over and not that ranger.” He let out a heavy sigh, going to the railing and peering over it. Baylee was still chatting with Rán, who was leaning against the wall in such a way that the lass most certainly had a good view of his torso. “The problem is, I don’t think Bofur knows he’s in love yet, but Rán _does_ know…and that ranger is starting to pull out all the stops in order to woo her.”

Ori pursed his lips in a pout. “We need to keep that from happening.”

“We do. I’ve already planted a little idea into her head to ask Bofur to go with her to Erebor in a few days,” he said, turning around and leaning against the railing. “She needs to go there just to get a spear, but if Bofur’s the one who goes with her, then I’m positive he’ll spend the whole day showing her around or introducing her to Bombur and Gerdi.”

“Good, good…We’ll need to get Bifur and Will in on this, too,” he stated.

Nori’s brow rose. “Will…? I don’t think that’d be a good idea, little brother. Humans are just as protective over their siblings as we dwarrows. And with Bofur being a dwarrow, I’m not sure Will would appreciate such a pairing.”

At that, Ori grinned mischievously. “That’s where you’re wrong, big brother,” he replied. “I was talking with Bifur the other day; apparently, he and Will had a chat some time ago about Bofur and Baylee. Will said that he hopes Baylee falls for Bofur because then he’d know that she’d truly be loved and taken care of.”

A roguish smirk came to Nori’s lips. “Is that so? Well, that gives us quite the advantage, now doesn’t it?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plug, but if any of my readers are interested in Pirates of the Caribbean, I've started posting my PotC fanfic, 'Of Sparrow and Drystan', here on AO3. I've been trying to post it on fanfic dot net, but the website refuses to upload it for some reason...

“Hm…which fruit t’ use…I don’t want t’ use the cranberries since I’m savin’ those for Prince Fili.” Baylee stood on a stool in the pantry, looking over the shelf where she kept her dried fruits. “I’ve got plenty o’ strawberries, but I don’t have anything that goes too well with them…” As she pursed her lips in thought, she glanced further down the shelf, where some fresh fruits and vegetables were separated into baskets. “Ooh, we still have some lemons Will brought us…”

Grinning, she grabbed the jar of dried strawberries as well as the basket of lemons. It was a combination she had never used in her breads before, but remembering how delicious strawberry lemonade was, she had a feeling it would work out in her favor. She carried both into the kitchen, plopping them on the island before going to look in the utensil drawer for the reamer. Finding it, she closed the drawer and returned to her station.

She was in the middle of juicing her third lemon when the door opened and Bofur poked his head in. He smiled when he saw her.

“Mornin’, lass,” he said, wanting to make sure she knew he was there before coming fully into the room.

“Mornin’, Bofur,” she chirped, glancing over at him. “Tea water should be ready in a few minutes.”

“It seems I’m gettin’ better with my timing,” he chuckled, heading over to the shelf of mugs. “How’d you sleep?” With a small hop, he climbed onto the counter.

“Like a log, thank Estë. It’s been a while since I got sleep that good.” She tucked some hair behind her ear, stealing another look at the dwarf only to find his back facing her. “What about you? How’d you sleep?”

Grabbing his favorite mug, he slid back onto the floor. “Also like a log—or, rather, I was first sleepin’ like a tree. Then I went an’ rolled out o’ bed an’ _that’s_ when I slept like a log.” He then shrugged. “I have t’ say lass, I know this is a mighty fine inn because even the floor was comfortable t’ sleep on.”

She cracked up, her brow rising. “I’m glad to hear that,” she giggled, “even if the floors aren’t meant for sleepin’ on.” Cutting her fourth and final lemon in half, she proceeded to use the reamer to help squeeze as much juice from the halves as possible.

“Lemons?” he questioned, his head tilting slightly. “What’re you going t’ do wish those?”

“Well, so far, I’ve zested them an’ juiced them. From here, I’m hopin’ to use both in today’s fruit bread.” She sliced one of the juiced lemon halves into a quarter before nibbling on whatever pulp that remained, enjoying the sour flavor. “I’m…not quite sure how it’s going t’ turn out, since I’ll be making up the recipe as I go along, but should all turn out well, it’ll be more o’ a cake than bread.”

He grabbed a tin of tea, chuckling. “Ooh, someone’s feelin’ adventurous this morning,” he teased. “I’m sure it’ll come out delicious, though. You’ve a knack for makin’ delicious things with fruit.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “Let’s hope you didn’t just jinx me,” she joked. She nibbled on another quarter of lemon, watching as he went about prepping his tea. “So…the day after tomorrow, I’ll be goin’ over to Erebor.”

“Oh?” He looked over his shoulder, blinking in surprise. “Why’s that, lass?”

“I need t’ commission a spear and I wanted t’ get some ideas for a birthday present for Will,” she explained. “But, ah…since I don’t really know the place, I was wondering if you’d be willin’ t’ come with me?” There was a shy smile on her lips as she watched him.

Bofur felt his cheeks grow a bit warm. “I’d be more than happy t’ go with you, lass,” he replied, grinning. “What time were you thinkin’ of leaving?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I have the whole day off.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well, if you’d like, we could leave just after breakfast. That’ll give us a good, long time t’ wander around.” Walking over to the hearth, he then let out a small laugh as an idea came to him. “An’ if you’d like, I could take you over t’ my home for lunch so you can meet Bombur an’ Gerdi.”

She giggled, her brow rising. “Nori said you might suggest doin’ that.”

“Nori?” His brow rose as he filled his mug with boiling water.

“Aye. It was actually his idea that I ask you t’ come with me. Said it’d be best if I had one o’ you lads with me t’ show me around an’ make sure I didn’t get a cheap deal.” She crossed the room and climbed onto the counter so she could get a mixing bowl. “I’d love t’ stop by your home, by the way. It’ll be nice t’ finally put a face t’ Bombur’s name.”

“Well, not t’ brag or anything, but I _can_ be quite the haggler at times,” he grinned. Taking his tea over to the counter, he set it down before beginning to undo his braids.

“Which is good, because I’m _not_ very good at—” She yelped out a curse word as, when she brought down the mixing bowl, she found a large spider staring up at her. Instinctively, she flung the bowl away from her, but in the process, she had forgotten she was up on the counter and tried to take a step back.

Bofur’s eyes shot open and he darted forward, catching her just in time; the mixing bowl, however, landed upside down atop the stack of flour sacks near the end of the counter. “A-are you alright, lass?” he asked.

She nodded a bit shakily. “Y-yes…I’m sorry, there w-was a big spider…” Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and she smiled apologetically.

A pitying smile came to his lips, but he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling because of how adorable she looked. “Completely understandable, lass,” he told her, his voice gentle. He knew he shouldn’t have been, but he was surprised by just how light she was; he had to remind himself that humans weren’t nearly as dense as dwarves. “I’m just glad that spider waited t’ scare you until _after_ someone else came in here. I don’t want t’ think about what would have happened if someone hadn’t been here.”

“I wish it hadn’t scared me at all.” She lightly shook her head. “If I see another one, I’m dousin’ the kitchen with peppermint oil.”

He laughed, his brow rising. “Peppermint oil? What does that do?”

“Keeps spiders—an’ lots o’ other pests—out of the place. They don’t like the smell o’ mint for some reason.” She looked up at him only to realize that he was still holding her in his arms.

As if coming to the same realization, he cleared his throat and set her back on her feet; it had taken a great deal of willpower to do such, however. “I-I’ll have t’ keep that in mind. After our trip through Mirkwood, I’m not the biggest fan o’ them anymore, either.”

“…I’m afraid t’ ask, but why is that?” She brushed the front of her apron off before going to check on the mixing bowl.

“Let’s just say there were spiders large enough t’ ride.” He watched as she shuddered and stuck her tongue out.

“I’m never steppin’ foot in that forest, then.” Gingerly, she reached over and lifted the mixing bowl up _just_ enough to peek beneath it. As she quickly slammed it back down, she heard Bofur snort.

Walking over, he gently nudged her out of the way. “Here, lass. I’ll take care o’ it. You just get the door for me.”

“Thank you,” she said, a bit of embarrassment in her voice. Going to the door, she opened it before looking back at him. She watched as he stood on his tiptoes and flipped the bowl over.

“M-Mahal’s beard, you weren’t jokin’!” he cried, holding the bowl out at arm’s length. Turning, he darted for the door only to start swearing as he ran; the spider was starting to crawl up the side of the bowl. “Stay in there, you eight-legged bugger!”

Baylee couldn’t help but giggle as he ran over to the small flowerbed against the stable wall. He flipped the bowl over and shook it, trying to dislodge the spider. When a large, black lump fell down to the ground, Bofur blew a raspberry at it. Upon turning around, he saw Baylee in the doorway and a victorious grin came to his lips.

“There. Now we don’t have t’ worry about anyone findin’ a spider in their bread,” he chirped. Making his way back towards the door, he looked into the bowl one more time just to be certain it was truly spider-free. He swiped his hand along the bottom, wiping away the few threads of spider silk that clung to the wood.

“Thank you again for doing that, Bofur,” she said as he came up the steps. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble, lass,” he replied, smiling as he held the bowl out to her. As she took it, he pointed a playfully stern finger at her. “No more walkin’ off o’ counters though, you hear?” he chuckled.

Her cheeks flushed again, but she smiled and nodded. “Aye, I promise that won’t be happenin’ again.” Closing the door, she tucked some hair behind her ear and made her way back to the sink. “For all o’ that, you’re gettin’ extra ham with your breakfast.”

“Normally, I’d be opposed t’ that, but the ham you’ve been usin’ for breakfast the last few days has been extra delicious, so no arguments here.” He went to go stand by his tea and returned to undoing his braids.

“Isn’t it good?” she grinned. “It’s smoked with cherrywood. We have t’ order it special from the butcher because his cherrywood-smoked meats go fastest.” She tucked some hair behind her ear again before moving to start making the bread.

“I’ve always been fond o’ cherries, so it doesn’t surprise me that usin’ the wood to smoke stuff tastes good, too,” he chuckled. With his braids now undone, he brought a pendant out from beneath his tunic; he pulled it in half, revealing that part of it was a comb. He set his hat on the counter and started to comb through his hair. “Back t’ the subject o’ Erebor, though…You mentioned that it’s goin’ t’ be yours an’ Will’s birthday soon. Did you have any ideas about what you might want t’ get him?”

She sighed, cracking some eggs into the bowl, taking care to not get any shells in it. “That’s the problem. I’m utterly clueless. I’m hopin’ that, by wandering around for a bit, I’ll be able t’ spot something that might appeal t’ him. Thankfully, there’s still time between now and the middle o’ Nárië t’ come up with something, so it’s not like I’m in a rush…” She glanced over at him only to feel her cheeks grow warm; this was the first time she had seen him with his hair unbraided. ‘Nienna help me,’ she thought, forcing herself to look back into the bowl. ‘Just when I thought he couldn’t get more handsome than yesterday…’

“I _might_ have an idea or two for a gift,” he said, not noticing how red she was.

“Oh?” Once the eggs were all cracked, she carried the bowl over to the sack of sugar.

“A set o’ toymakers chisels.” There was a small grin on his lips as, when he peeked over at her, he saw that she was staring at him. “Just an idea,” he continued, amusement in his voice. “If you don’t end up gettin’ them for him, then either Bifur or me will.”

“You two are really goin’ t’ ask him to be a toymaker?”

He nodded, pausing in his combing so he could take a sip of tea. “Aye, we are. He managed t’ steal a peek at some o’ our toy diagrams a bit ago an’ he was quite interested in them; kept askin’ us what kinds of wood we used for certain parts, whether we would use a lathe or do it by eye…I know he probably prefers makin’ furniture and buildin’ houses, but I’d like t’ think we’re lenient enough o’ bosses that we’d let him go for a few days or weeks t’ do some bigger projects.” He gave her a playful wink, his grin broadening as she giggled.

“I take it the two o’ you are going t’ be waiting until he’s a bit closer t’ finishing up work on the building before asking him, then?” Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed one of the smaller mugs from the shelf; just in case, she peeked into it before using it to scoop sugar into the bowl.

“That’s the plan, aye.” Resuming his combing, he watched as Baylee carried the bowl back to the island. She grabbed a strange utensil that was made from copper and had many wires protruding from the handle, each tipped with a round, copper ball. “An’ with how quickly things are goin’ in the shop, that’s going t’ be sooner than we anticipated. Admittedly, we didn’t expect him t’ know as many craftsmen as he does, so that was a pleasantly unexpected surprise.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she started to whisk the sugar and eggs together. “Oh, aye—if ever you need somethin’ fixed that Will or papa can’t do, both know just who t’ point you towards,” she chuckled. She picked up the bowl of lemon juice and poured a bit of it in while continuing to whisk.

“Well, with your brother bein’ a woodworker and you da’ being a smith, something tells me there’s not much they can’t fix between the two o’ them,” he joked. Hearing the door creak open, he glanced over only to have his smile fade into a frown.

“Good mornin’, Rán,” Baylee smiled. “Water’s nice an’ hot for tea.”

“And good morning to you as well, Lady Baylee,” Rán said, stepping into the kitchen. Spotting Bofur, he kept a neutral expression on his face. “And to you, too, Master Bofur.”

“Mornin’,” Bofur replied, pretending to be distracted by a non-existent knot in his hair.

The ranger crossed the room, grabbing his usual mug from the shelf. “What is it that you are making this morning?” he questioned upon hearing her whisking. Normally, she’d be kneading bread by now.

“A strawberry lemonade loaf,” she replied, adding a bit more lemon juice to the mixture. After doing such, she tucked the same lock of hair behind her ear again; she had forgotten to put on her cuff, so there wasn’t much there to hold the hair in place. “Or, at least, that’s what I’m hoping it’ll be. This is my first time making it.”

“I am positive it will come out delicious,” Rán told her. “I have yet to be disappointed by any of the bread you have made.” Grabbing a tin of tea, he moved to get himself a tea strainer. “And it is quite hard to go wrong with the combination of strawberries and lemons.”

“It’s hard t’ go wrong with lemons in general,” she joked. “But lemons are one o’ my favorite fruits, so I might be a _wee_ bit biased there.”

“So _that’s_ why you were nibblin’ on those lemon wedges earlier,” Bofur chuckled. He sectioned out half his hair into thirds so he could start braiding.

She nodded, surprised he had caught her doing that. “Aye…Will had brought me a basketful o’ them when he came back from Dorwinion. I’m afraid these are the last o’ them, though.” Picking up the bowl, she carried it over to the counter near Rán and Bofur so she could begin adding flour to it.

“Have you ever had preserved lemons?” Rán questioned.

“I don’t think I have. How are they preserved?”

“They are packed in a brine consisting of lemon juice and salt. Some people add herbs and seasonings to the brine to make it more savory.”

Her head tilted curiously. “That sounds like it’d be interestin’ t’ use in cooking, though I’m not sure I’d know any dishes that it’d be good in.”

“Almost anything, if I may be honest. Preserved lemons are particularly popular in dishes with fish and chicken, though I have seen them used in sweet dishes such as strawberry-lemon custard.”

Bofur hated to admit it, but that sounded quite appetizing. “I’m sure if ever you got ahold o’ some, you an’ Galiene would be able t’ come up with something scrumptious,” he told her.

“I agree,” Rán said with a small nod. He walked over to the kettle, grabbing a cloth and using it to lift the kettle from the heat.

“You two have a lot o’ faith in us, then,” she laughed, her brow rising. With what she thought would be enough flour in the bowl, she took it back over to the island. Just in case, however, she went back and filled up a mug with flour, too. “Or rather, in me. Galiene I _know_ could whip up somethin’ yummy right away.”

Bofur dismissively waved the end of his now-finished braid at her. “You sell yourself short, lass. Aye, you may not be as good o’ a cook as Galiene, but you’re still a damned good cook. I bet if you were put on kitchen duty instead o’ hosting duty, you’d quickly become just as good as her.”

Her cheeks flushed darkly now and she gave him a small, shy smile. “You’ve only ever eaten the breakfasts and breads I’ve made, though. Not other meals.”

“If the breakfasts you make are any indication, Lady Baylee, then you do have the potential to become just as good as Lady Galiene,” Rán told her, cutting off Bofur before he could even say one syllable. A small grin came to his lips when he saw how red she had turned.

“T-to be fair, they _are_ Galiene’s recipes,” she told them, once more tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. Now that she knew both Bofur and Rán had crushes on her, she wondered if they had started to give her more compliments or if she simply really hadn’t noticed them before. “Bofur, could you toss me that wooden spoon behind you? The one without the holes?”

Twisting around on his stool, he found the spoon she requested and tossed it over to her. “There you go, lass,” he smiled. As she caught it and started to stir the batter around, he chuckled. “You’re gettin’ better with throwin’ things around.”

“Me, Wenna, an’ Gawen may have started tossing everything around when Galiene an’ auntie aren’t lookin’,” she said with a mischievous smile. “We don’t toss knives, though—none o’ us are confident enough for that.”

“How is your aunt doing, by the way?” Rán then asked. With his tea in hand, he moved to go steal a peek into her bowl. “I have not seen her since the morning before yesterday.”

A small laugh left her mouth. “Be glad for that, because she’s been _extremely_ grumpy. Like me, she can’t really stand sittin’ still for too long, but since she can’t get up an’ walk around…” Seeing that the batter was a little looser than she would have liked, she sprinkled in a bit more flour and stirred it in.

Bofur nodded in understanding. “She’s goin’ stir crazy an’ she’s only been down an’ out for a single day,” he chuckled. “Does she have any hobbies she can do while sittin’ down?”

“She embroiders. Will taught her, but she’s not quite as good as him yet. She’s catchin’ up, though.”

Both Rán and Bofur gawked at her. “…Will… _embroiders_?” Bofur repeated, his brow rising slowly.

“Aye. He picked it up last year when there wasn’t much work for him. he got quite good at it.” She wore a proud smile. “If he didn’t get back into woodworkin’, I’m sure the ladies in the sewing district would have hired him on.” Yet again, she pushed the hair from her face.

“I must admit, that is not something I would have expected of your brother,” Rán said. Seeing the frustration on her face as she pushed her hair back, his brow rose and he glanced over at Bofur, who was still working with his own hair. He set his mug down and, biting back a smirk, walked up behind Baylee. “Here, let me help you,” he told her, his voice gentle as he carefully pulled her hair back over her shoulders. “You seem to be getting frustrated with your hair this morning.” He sectioned it off before using his fingers to comb through one part.

“A-aye,” she answered, trying to not stammer. Her cheeks had grown hot once more, for she knew that Rán adhered to dwarvish customs when it came to hair. “I, ah, forgot t’ put on my ear cuff, so th-there’s nothing really t’ hold the hair back.”

He quietly chuckled, his brow rising. “Then it is even better that I am braiding it for you,” he stated. “It would just continue being a nuisance for you, especially when you are baking.” Glancing at Bofur, he saw that the dwarf’s jaw had clenched shut and his eyes were narrowed. He smirked and looked back down at Baylee’s hair, though a small look of concern came to his lips when he noticed her torn ear. ‘So that is what her cuff is for,’ he thought. ‘I wonder how she came by such an injury…?’

“Perhaps you should get him a new hoop an’ some fancy thread, then,” Bofur smiled. It took a great deal of effort to wear the smile, though, as he found himself filling with jealousy at the sight of Rán braiding her hair. “Though, I suppose you can find those easier in Dale than in Erebor…”

“But Erebor has metallic thread,” she reminded him. “An’ Will’s expressed interest in getting some for one o’ his projects…So I’ll add it t’ the list with the toymakin’ tools.”

Rán’s head tilted somewhat. “I take it your birthday is coming up, then?” he questioned.

“Aye, in the middle o’ Nárië.” She could feel the ranger beginning to do a second braid and she wondered just how many he planned to do. Doing her best to keep her head still for him, she pulled over the jar of dried strawberries. She dumped half the contents into an empty bowl before closing the jar and sprinkling some flour over them.

“Ashailyn’s birthday falls during the middle of Nárië, too,” Rán smiled. “Though, neither of us is quite sure of the date. I was off on an assignment when she was born.” He was braiding the largest section of her hair, doing a simple three-strand braid.

Her brow rose slightly. “Really? Will an’ me don’t know the date o’ ours, either,” she said with a small chuckle. “Da’ was off in Rohan askin’ my grandfather for permission t’ marry mum when we were born. Auntie an’ Lovisa were panicking too much t’ pay attention t’ the date until a week later. By that time, they had forgotten what day we arrived on.”

He quietly laughed. “It would be amusing if the three of you had been born on the same day…Who is this ‘Lovisa’ you speak of, though?”

“She’s like our adopted aunt; she was our nurse when Will an’ I were wee little terrors.” After mixing the strawberries around in the flour, she started to sprinkle them into the batter. “I’m goin’ t’ try and convince her t’ come up with us when we return from Laketown. It’s been too long since she last visited.”

“That’ll be nice,” Bofur chirped. “You an’ Will have told us about her often enough that we’re curious t’ meet her. It’s not every day you get t’ meet a half-dwarven huntress, after all. An’ from what Will’s told us, she’s a damned good one, too.”

Rán’s brow rose at that. “Your former nurse is a half-dwarf?” he questioned.

She nodded, chuckling. “Aye, she is. Her father was the last dwarven smith in Laketown before the Burning.” Carefully stirring the strawberries into the batter, she then frowned slightly. “Bofur, can I ask you a favor?”

“O’ course, lass.”

“See those loaf tins behind me, by the stack o’ baking dishes? There should be six o’ them?”

“Aye?”

“Could you slather the inside o’ three o’ them with butter, please?”

“Sure thing!” He beamed as he hopped to his feet and went over to the sink to wash his hands. As he passed by the island, he could see that Rán now wore a small frown, but while that brought him some satisfaction, what angered him was the type of braid he was doing. ‘Love-knots?! Really?! I bet she doesn’t even know what those are,’ he thought, his hands clenching into fists. Reaching the sink, he started to wash his hands. ‘At least while he’s over there putting love-knots in her hair, I’m being useful. With him taking his sweet time, poor Miss Baylee can’t do much, since she can’t move…’

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly.

‘At least I get to spend the _entire_ day with her soon…that might give me _some_ advantage over him.’

* * *

“There…all done.” Will rose to his feet and took a step back so he could better admire his handiwork. Though, admittedly, there wasn’t much to look at, since he had only replaced a few boards in the floor of the second story. But, to his back’s great relief, they had been the last of the boards that needed replaced.

Tucking his mallet back in his belt, he also grabbed his small handsaw and the bits of rotten wood he had removed—at least, the bits large enough to pick up. He knew he’d have to come back with a broom to get the last of that mess picked up. Heading down stairs, he covered his mouth as he yawned.

“How’d it go up there, lad?” Bifur asked. “Didn’t hear as much swearin’ come from you today.”

Will’s cheeks turned a bit red as he remembered how, yesterday, he kept accidentally hitting himself with his mallet. “My aim was better today,” he chuckled. “An’ it went well. The floor’s all done, as are the windows. I just need t’ sweep up my mess and then I’ll be completely done with the upstairs.” He then looked over at the front wall, where there was a canvas tarp covering the enormous rectangular hole in it. “Any word on when the wood for the frame should be getting’ here?” he then asked.

Bifur shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “I can’t imagine it’d be too easy, gettin’ all that wood here in just a few days, though.”

“True, true…I suppose I’m just impatient,” he laughed. “I guess I could start on building the shelves, then. I have the wood for _those_ , at least.” He followed Bifur into the kitchen, where he set his tools down on the table. Carrying the bits of bad wood outside, he tossed them onto the scrap pile. When he turned to head back inside, he saw Bofur carefully pouring a bit of water into the window box of sunflowers he had made.

“There; I bet you lot were thirsty,” the dwarf murmured, not realizing that Will was outside with him. “Sorry I forgot t’ water you for a few days an’ leaving you in the warm sun…”

In a squeaky, high-pitched voice, Will said, “That’s alright, Bofur! We know you’ve been busy!”

Bofur looked up, his eyes wide in surprise. Seeing that it had just been Will, he let out a small laugh and he cocked his brow. “Since when did you become a ventriloquist, lad?” he asked.

“A ventri-whatta-what now?” He walked over to the dwarf and looked down at the box of sunflowers that had yet to bloom.

“Ventriloquist,” he corrected with a snort. “They’re a type o’ puppeteer who can somehow talk without movin’ their mouths, makin’ it look like their puppets are doin’ the talking.”

“Ahh…Well, I assure you, I’m not one o’ those.” He lightly nudged the window box with his foot. “I know when we can get this installed in Baylee’s window, by the way. She’ll be goin’—”

“—‘T Erebor the day after tomorrow,” he finished, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Aye, I know. I’ll actually be goin’ with her t’ make sure she gets a good deal an’ to show her around a wee bit.”

A grin also came to Will’s lips, which made Bofur feel a bit confused; why did _he_ look so happy about this? “Is that so? How long do the two o’ you plan on bein’ gone for?”

He shrugged. “However long she’d like t’ be gone for, to be honest,” he answered. His cheeks then turned a bit red as he started to follow the human back into the shop. “Could be a few hours, could be the whole day; it’s all up to her. I did tell her if we get hungry, I could take her over t’ the Ur Mansion an’ introduce her to my brother an’ sister-in-law who will, no doubt, stuff us full o’ food.” A small smile came to his lips at the thought of Bombur and Gerdi meeting Baylee and his cheeks grew a bit redder. He hoped they would like her…

“If she chooses t’ stay the whole day, what sorts o’ things do you plan on showing her?” His brow rose slightly when he saw Bofur’s cheeks turn pink and then red; inwardly, though, he felt a little bit giddy about this. ‘He’s being a lot more bashful than I expected,’ he thought. ‘Normally, he’s quite outgoing.’

“Well, probably the usual places…around the market, to the different districts, maybe one o’ the glow-shroom farms. Oh, an’ maybe a glassblower. I told her ‘bout how glass is blown an’ she got real curious about it.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck almost nervously. “That sound alright t’ you, lad?”

Will nodded, his brow rising in amusement as he grabbed a broom. “It does, though I’m not sure why you’re askin’ me,” he half-joked. “I’m not the one you’re going t’ be showing around.”

Bifur looked up from the piece of wood he was whittling. “Hm? Who’re you showing around where?”

“Day after tomorrow, I’ll be goin’ with Miss Baylee t’ Erebor to help her get a spear,” Bofur explained. “Dependin’ on how long we stay there, I was thinking about the different places I could show her—an’ don’t worry, the Mansion is at the top o’ the list.”

Laughing, Bifur cocked a brow. “Is that so? What time will the two o’ you be leaving?”

“We were thinkin’ just after breakfast.” He plopped down on a stool and picked up his small carving knife as well as a partially-shaped block of wood.

“Knowin’ Baylee, she’d want t’ stay there for as long as possible,” Will said, emphasizing the words ‘as long as possible’ in hopes of Bofur noticing. “She _loves_ seein’ new places an’ if she has herself a guide, she’ll be even more eager t’ go sightseein’.” He glanced at Bifur, finding that the older dwarf had a mischievous look in his eyes. “I’m sure wherever you end up takin’ her, though, she’d still enjoy the hell out o’ it.” He, too, sat down at the table, pulling over a stack of papers. On them were his diagrams for the various shelving units he’d have to build.

“It’s a good thing Bofur’s quite good at being a guide,” Bifur chuckled. “Just don’t show her the mines—those are boring.”

A small pout came to Bofur’s lips. “I had no intentions o’ showing her the mines,” he told him. “A glow-shroom farm, maybe, but no mines.” He carefully worked the wood with his knife, turning it from a sharp-cornered block into a softer, rounded-edge hunk of wood; he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to make yet.

“Why a glow-shroom farm?” Bifur questioned.

“I highly doubt Miss Baylee’s ever seen a glow-shroom, let alone an entire farm o’ them,” Bofur said, matter-of-factly. “An’ she’s a lass who likes growin’ things, so I thought she might enjoy it.”

“Glow-shrooms are fungus, not plants.” The three jumped in surprise and looked at the doorway only to find Nori and Ori standing there, each with a large basket in hand.

“Lunch delivery, by the way,” Nori chuckled, stepping forward and setting his basket on the table. “Sorry it’s not Miss Baylee; she’s trainin’ some new hostesses.”

“Ahh, that’s right: Prim managed t’ rope her sisters into helpin’ us for a while,” Will snorted, his brow rising.

Ori nodded. “Miss Primrose, luckily, already knew what to do, so while Miss Baylee works with her sisters, she and Miss Wenna are handling the customers.”

Bifur’s brow rose. “How hard can it be t’ train a person t’ be a hostess?”

“Quite difficult when there’s a couple o’ Dorwinion rangers they’re strugglin’ to not flirt with,” Nori told them. He started to unpack the basket, laying out plates of meat and cheese, as well as some fruits and two loaves of bread: One plain, the other a strawberry-lemonade loaf. He glanced at Bofur from the corner of his eye. “They’re just lucky Rán had to go out on duty today. But he did manage t’ send the girls into a gossipin’ tizzy before he left.”

Will’s brow rose. “How’d he do that? Walked around in that low-cut tunic again?” he snorted.

Ori shook his head. “He kissed Miss Baylee’s cheek.”

“He did _what_?!” Bofur suddenly cried, taking them all by surprise. His eyes were wide in shock, but his brows were furrowed in anger and his jaw clenched shut.

“H-he kissed her cheek,” Ori repeated. He had expected Bofur to not be happy upon hearing this news, but he hadn’t expected such a loud reaction.

“That—that cocky asshole!” Bofur grumbled, letting his fist thump onto the table. “Who does he think he is, kissin’ Miss Baylee’s cheek!?” He continued to grumble, but switched to Khuzdul so he could use more colorful curse words.

The others exchanged knowing looks while doing their best to not laugh. “Bofur?” Will said, biting back a laugh.

“What?” grumbled the dwarf.

“Rán didn’t actually kiss Baylee’s cheek.”

His frown growing in size, Bofur looked up in confusion. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I-I made that up,” Ori admitted, his cheeks turning pink.

“We wanted t’ see just how hard you had fallen for Miss Baylee,” Nori stated, amused by the look of betrayal on Bofur’s face. “An’ now we know you’ve fallen in love hard enough that you’re not about t’ get back on your feet.”

Swallowing hard, Bofur felt his cheeks growing hot. “Wh-what?! Yo-you could have just asked, you know!”

“We could have,” Bifur agreed, “but we were a bit worried you may not have realized it yourself yet. So…we came up with this wee little test.”

Bofur’s eyes widened as realization hit him like a brick: He _was_ in love with Baylee. All this time, he had been in denial; how could he come to love someone in such a short amount of time? It had taken _years_ for him to fall for Kaia and yet, he’d only known Baylee a handful of months! He had thought that, surely, it was just a silly little crush. Almost everyone got crushes—it didn’t mean they were in love!

But no. The more he thought about it, the more he started to recognize these feelings. Feelings he had thought were long dead and buried with Kaia. Mahal had seen fit to grant him a Second Chance and he had been too stupid to even realize it. Unconsciously, he grabbed the ends of his braids and, holding them together, started to rub his thumbs along the individual plaits; Bifur knew his cousin was prone to doing such a thing when he was feeling extremely bashful.

Still wearing the pout, Bofur cleared his throat. “We-well, you could have picked a better day,” he scolded. “I was already wantin’ t’ punch the git’s stupid, handsome face since this mornin’ an’ I almost ran off just now t’ go do it.”

“What’d Rán do t’ warrant you wanting to punch him?” Nori questioned, his arms crossing over his chest. “Complimented her in front o’ you?” He quietly chuckled at his own joke.

“No,” he said with a heavy sigh. “He left _six_ love-knots in her hair this mornin’.”

The dwarves’ eyes widened in shock while Will looked confused. “Love-knots? What’re those?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“A love-knot is a special braid we dwarves put in our lover’s hair,” Bifur explained, “or in the hair o’ our _potential_ lover. We usually put them in in threes; three is the number you use when you’re just startin’ t’ flirt.”

“Six is when you’re gettin’ more serious and you’re startin’ to contemplate if the person’s your One,” Nori added.

“An’ when you put nine in, then it means you’re certain they’re your One. Nine also mean ‘back off, this one’s taken,’” Ori said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had seen that her hair was braided, but I didn’t pay attention t’ the style of braids…and since he left six, that means he really serious about bein’ Bofur’s rival.”

Bofur groaned, letting go of his braids in favor of resting his arms on the table and burying his face in them. “He did it right in front o’ me, too! But I couldn’t do anythin’ t’ stop him because I didn’t want t’ look like a bully in front o’ Miss Baylee!” Another Khuzdul curse word left his mouth. “I’m just glad she doesn’t know what love-knots are…”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’ll be spendin’ the whole day with her soon, isn’t it?” Will said, trying to sound reassuring. “Rán won’t be anywhere near her for most o’ the day, so you can do all the flirtin’ you want with her without fear o’ being shown up.” Reaching over to one of the plates, he plucked up a bit of cheese before popping it into his mouth.

“That’s true,” Bofur admitted with a sigh, his voice slightly muffled by his arms. “I’ll be able to—” He then paused and, sitting upright, he looked at the group of males before him with suspicious, narrowed eyes. “Wait a minute…you four have known this _entire_ time that I was in love an’ you didn’t bother t’ tell me?!”

Nori burst out laughing and gave Ori a nudge. “I _told_ you he didn’t know he was in love!” he cackled.

“T-to be fair,” Ori said, wincing as his brother nudged him harder than intended, “we weren’t quite sure ourselves. We had suspicions, but we just wanted t’ confirm them before we tried anythin’.”

Bifur nodded. “Aye. We’ve been keepin’ an eye on the two o’ you, trying to find some definite signs. But other than an occasional flush o’ the cheeks, you two act fairly normal around one another.”

“One o’ Baylee’s faults, I’m afraid. She’s never been good at flirtin’. She just…acts exactly the same. _Maybe_ she’ll blush a time or two,” Will sighed. A mischievous grin then came to his lips. “However, I _do_ have it on good authority that she does, indeed, harbor feelings for Bofur.”

Ori frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Prim told me,” he admitted. “She an’ I talked this morning while Baylee was off with Rosalyn and Rosamunde. She was as giddy as a schoolgirl who just heard some juicy gossip when she told me Baylee was finally crushin’ on someone after all this time.” His grin faded somewhat at that point. “But…Prim _also_ told me that Baylee’s _also_ crushing on Rán.”

At that, Bofur groaned and let his head flop back onto his arms. “I don’t stand a chance, then. The git’s too handsome an’ charming an’ he’s already put love-knots in her hair for Mahal’s sake! No human lass in her right mind would pick me over him.”

Nori reached over and thwacked him upside the head, knocking his hat askew. “Will said she was crushing on _both_ o’ you,” he told him, voice dry. “Just because Rán’s gone an’ put love-knots in her hair doesn’t mean anythin’ aside from _him_ tryin’ to stake a claim on her.”

Will nodded in agreement. “Not to mention, Rán’s at a big disadvantage, being that I want her t’ end up with _you_ an’ _not_ him. Don’t get me wrong: He’s a nice enough bloke, but I have yet t’ see him make her laugh nearly as hard or smile as much as you do, Bofur.”

Bofur looked up, his eyes wide in shock. “…You really want her t’ fall for me?” he asked with a small frown. “Aren’t brothers supposed t’ be _against_ their sisters courtin’ some bloke?” he then added as a small, teasing smile came to his lips. “You should be wantin’ t’ bash my head in.”

He shook his head, laughing. “No, no—that’s the job o’ _older_ brothers,” he explained. “Bein’ that I’m younger, I’m all for my big sister fallin’ in love and being happy. An’ you’ve quickly become a good friend t’ me. As such, I’m goin’ t’ help you win her heart in any way I can.”

* * *

“Now which barrels are these ones?”

“The ale.”

“An’ these ones?”

“Beer.”

“What about these smaller ones?”

“Top three are cider, bottom three are mead.”

“Which leaves these last one as the…”

“Wine.”

Baylee grinned at the two brunettes sitting across from her. “Good. Now that you’ve got those memorized, the hardest thing you’ll have t’ remember is all the orders an’ who they belong to.”

Rosalyn, the older of the two, cocked a brow and a small pout came to her lips. “You underestimate our memories, Baylee Braddock,” she said, her tone playfully scolding.

Rosamunde, the younger, snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Aye! We’re not entirely hopeless when it comes to stuff like this,” she giggled.

Shaking her head, Baylee chuckled and cocked a brow. “So long as the two o’ you remember orders, you should be good t’ go. On most nights, papa’s the one behind the bar anyway, so you’ll only have t’ worry about fillin’ drinks during breakfast an’ lunch.” She flicked a braid over her shoulder; Rán had definitely made sure her hair would stay out of her face when he had braided it.

“What happens if we can’t remember the entire order?” Rosamunde asked. She had her chin resting in her palm as she watched Baylee get herself a tankard of cider.

“There’s no harm in goin’ back and asking,” she answered. “Not t’ mention, most o’ our customers are usuals, so they’ll see that the two o’ you are new an’ will go easy on you. It won’t be too hard, though, since we only offer two main courses for lunch an’ dinner. Breakfast is fairly slow, given that it’s mostly folk who’re stayin’ here…not t’ mention, you lot probably won’t get here until after breakfast. You’ll start rememberin’ things quite quickly.” She took a drink of her cider, enjoying how the liquid cooled her throat and stomach.

The sisters suddenly let out small yelps of surprise as Primrose came up behind them and threw her arms around their shoulders. “Prim! That was very unladylike of you!” Rosamunde jokingly scolded.

“I’ll have you know that it would have been unladylike if I had jumped from nowhere while makin’ scary noises or while wearing a scary mask,” Primrose told her, her tone also joking. “As it was, I simply gave the two o’ you a hug.” She then looked at Baylee, a cheeky grin on her lips. “Where are the rangers at today, by the way?”

“They’re out doin’ their biweekly patrol o’ the area surrounding Dale an’ Erebor,” Baylee answered, her brow rising. “Why do you ask?”

Primrose shrugged and moved to stand alongside Rosalyn. “Just curious. I told these two about how handsome they are. Don’t worry, though—I made sure t’ tell them that Rán was off limits due to him bein’ yours.”

Baylee’s cheeks grew bright red and the trio of sisters started to giggle. “He is _not_ mine,” she mumbled, glancing away. “Just because I’m crushin’ on him doesn’t mean anything…”

“True, but the fact that _he’s_ crushin’ on you, too, _does_ mean something,” Primrose giggled.

Rosamunde grinned, plopping her chin in her palm. “Prim told us he’s real handsome,” she said. “Is she overexaggeratin’ or is she being truthful?”

“She told you the truth,” Baylee sighed, her cheeks still red. “B-but that still doesn’t mean he’s ‘mine’—I don’t even know if I like him more or less than Bofur!”

“Bofur? Who’s that?” Rosalyn questioned, her brow rising. A smirk came to her lips. “Is he handsome, too?”

“Aye, he is,” Baylee murmured, taking another drink of her cider. A small smile then came to her lips and she bit her lower lip slightly. “Especially when he’s got his hair unbraided…”

Primrose cocked her brow. “You’ve seen him with his hair down?”

“Just this mornin’, actually,” Baylee answered. “He redid his hair while we had our morning chat.”

Rosalyn and Rosamunde exchanged confused looks. “Is there a particular significance t’ this Bofur fellow having his hair unbraided?” the former asked. “Other than him looking handsome, that is.”

“Not really,” Primrose said. “He’s a full-dwarf, though, so he’s usually got his hair braided. I’m sure I’ve told you about him—he’s one of the ones who’s opening up a toyshop on the main street.”

“Oh, _that_ one!” Rosamunde chirped. “I’ve seen him a few times, then. He’s the one who wears the silly hat and has the pigtails that curl upwards somehow, isn’t he?”

Baylee nodded. “Aye, that’d be him.”

The younger Lightfoot glanced away, shifting her weight to the other foot. “Ahh…er, well, I suppose he’s a bit decent looking, then. But, he’s also not my type, so o’ course I wouldn’t think he’s as attractive as you do.”

“Oh, aye, I know. You prefer your males t’ be tall, practically hairless, an’ have pointy ears,” Baylee joked. Finishing her cider, she let out a small, content sigh. “I should go see if Galiene an’ Gawen need any help in the kitchen. Do you think you three can handle the room if I get put t’ work?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Primrose smiled, “especially since we’ll have Wenna helping us.”

“Alright. If you have any troubles an’ Wenna gets too busy t’ help, feel free t’ come get me.” Bringing her mug with her, she headed for the kitchen. As she stepped through the doors, she was greeted by the scent of slow-roasting chicken and her stomach quietly growled. “Do you two need any help in here?”

Aunt and nephew looked over from the hearth; Gawen was slowly turning a set of spits that each had six chickens speared on them while Galiene was using their drippings to baste the birds.

“Ah, you’re just in time!” Galiene chirped. “I need you t’ run to the market an’ fetch us some rosemary, tarragon, and some jarred tomatoes if possible.”

“Rosemary, tarragon, an’ jarred tomatoes. Got it.” Setting her mug down by the sink, she then removed her apron and hung it on a hook by the door. “How much o’ each?”

“A good handful of the herbs an’ three large jars o’ tomatoes if you can find them,” Galiene told her.

Gawen wore a mischievous grin as he glanced over at Baylee. “With how much she uses, it might just be better t’ buy my aunt an herb garden o’ her own.” He leaned back as Galiene tried to thwack him upside the head.

“ _That_ is somethin’ you’ll have to bring up with papa,” Baylee laughed, her brow rising. Reaching under the sink, she pulled out a basket. “I’ll be back soon!” She left through the kitchen door, a small smile coming to her lips as she felt the warm, spring sun start to warm her skin. ‘This feels nice for now,’ she thought, ‘but when I have my sparring session later, I’m going to be dying in that gambeson…’

“Lady Baylee?”

She stopped in her tracks, seeing Rán, Kreine, and Hunil leaving the stables. “Afternoon, you three,” she smiled, giving them a small wave. “How did your patrol go?”

“Uneventful, thankfully,” Kreine smiled. “We can only hope the others will have had the same results by the time they return.”

Hunil nodded in agreement. “The quieter the patrols, the better. It means those raiders are still too cowardly to come this far north.” He then sniffed the air. “What does Lady Galiene have cooking for dinner tonight? It smells delicious.”

“Your choice between spit-roasted chicken an’…an’…” She paused, her brows furrowing slightly. “You know, I don’t really know what else she’s got cookin’ up in there. I’ve been workin’ with our new hostesses, so I haven’t been in the kitchen much.”

Rán cocked his head. “I assume they are to take the place of your aunt?”

“An’ t’ help with the comin’ summer rushes,” she added. “For two o’ the three, this will be their first time workin’ in the inn, so if they mess any orders up, I apologize in advanced.”

Kreine gave her a reassuring look. “We will go easy on them,” she chuckled. Then, noticing the basket, her brow rose somewhere. “Where are you going?”

“T’ the market. Galiene needs me t’ grab some things for her.”

“Do you mind if I accompany you, then?” Rán questioned. “I need to buy some hair oils for both Ashailyn and myself.”

Though she wasn’t the least bit surprised he had asked to come with her, Baylee’s cheeks still flushed ever so slightly. “You’re more than welcome t’ come with,” she replied, smiling. “If you’d like, I could even show you the best shop t’ get hair oils from.”

“That would be most appreciated, Lady Baylee.” He looked up at Kreine and Hunil. “I will return in a bit. Is there anything you would like me to pick up while I am out?”

“Some hair oil for me, too, would be lovely,” Kreine replied.

Hunil shook his head. “I need nothing. If the others get back while you are out, we will be sure to tell them where you have gone.”

He gave him a small nod of thanks. “Alright. Do not pester the new hostesses too much while we are away.”

Kreine grinned. “We will not.” She started to lead Hunil towards the door while Baylee and Rán headed for the archway.

“It is good to hear you have hired on more help,” he commented as they walked. “This inn seems to be quite popular even in the off season, so I can hardly imagine how busy it will be come summer.”

“Oh, aye—it gets pretty crazy at times,” she chuckled. “Cermië is the month when we start gettin’ an idea of how busy it’ll be, since midyear’s day at the start o’ the month an’ folk like t’ travel up here for the festival.” She shifted the empty basket so that she carried it at her side rather than in the crook of her arm. “Though, I’m wonderin’ if it’s going to be a wee bit quieter this year, what with those raiders attackin’ folks.”

A small frown came to Rán’s lips and he nodded in agreement. “A valid concern,” he told her. “When the dwarven prince visits next week, King Bard and I will be discussing a plan of action with him.”

“Somethin’ tells me you can’t just send a few rangers out t’ try an’ track them down.”

He nodded. “Yes. We tried such tactics back in Dorwinion, but we always lost the trail by the third day.” Sighing, he shook his head. “Even when we were only a few hours behind them, they always managed to lose us.”

Her brows furrowed. “That’s odd…Did their tracks just disappear or did they start crisscrossin’ an’ doubling back t’ confuse you?”

“Both. Sometimes, they would simply vanish and others, they grew too confusing to read. Often times, they would also travel along game trails so that the wild animals would help to further hide their tracks.”

“Hm. That’s fairly tricky o’ them…Maybe they’re not from the Brown Lands, after all.”

Rán tilted his head curiously. “Pardon?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “O-Oh, I spoke with Bard before you lot got here an’ he told me about the raiders. In turn, I told him the wargs an’ their riders could be hidin’ out in the Brown Lands, since that’s where wargs like t’ go t’ breed.”

“How do you know of this, if you do not mind my asking?”

“My mum an’ auntie grew up in the East Emnet o’ Rohan, which is fairly close t’ the Brown Lands. As such, they were constantly havin’ t’ defend their village from roamin’ bands o’ wargs. They would get so bad that King Thengel sent over a small army t’ thin the numbers.”

He nodded in understanding as he absorbed the information. “Did they, by chance, ever mention how large those wargs were?”

“Not really. When they told us the stories, they only said that the wargs were taller than a pony, but shorter than a horse.” As they entered the market, she started to look around, checking to see which vender had the freshest looking herbs. “You could try askin’ my auntie, though. I’m sure she’d be able t’ describe them better.”

“I will keep that in mind, thank you,” he told her. He, too, glanced around; he had quickly grown to enjoy this market more than the one back in Dorwinion. It was quieter and, while there were still many people wandering about, it wasn’t nearly as crowded.

Baylee stole a peek up at him and found a content smile on his lips. He seemed to be much more at ease out here than he did back at the inn and part of her wondered if it was because there were no other rangers about. Or, perhaps, it was because he was around her…? She highly doubted that one, however; why would being around her make someone feel at ease?

“So…how have you been enjoyin’ Dale?” she asked, leading him towards a vendor. “I know you’ve been enjoyin’ the food, but that’s about it.”

“I am enjoying it quite a bit,” he answered, following alongside her. “Especially this cooler weather.” He let out a soft laugh. “The first time I saw snow was when the peak of the Lonely Mountain came into view when we rode up here. Come next winter, I hope that I will be able to see some close up.”

“Come winter, you might be missin’ the warm weather o’ Dorwinion,” she joked. She started to sort through the sprigs of rosemary, looking for the biggest, greenest ones. “Our summers don’t get terribly warm—aye, they get warm enough t’ warrant wearing lighter fabrics, but most definitely not for swimmin’, which is a bit disappointing…Not that there are many good swimmin’ spots up here anyway.”

His brow rose and he let out a small laugh. “It does not surprise me that you lament the lack of swimming spots, given how you grew up on a lake,” he commented. “Though, it does surprise me that, with Laketown being only fifty or so miles away, its summers would be warm enough for swimming.”

“You’d be surprise,” she chuckled, picking about seven large sprigs of rosemary before beginning to look for the best of the tarragon. “Only around fifty miles separates the two cities, aye, but Dale’s also much higher up than Laketown. The entire landscape changes, too; it goes from bein’ rocky and forested up here to wide, open plains on the eastern banks o’ the lake.”

“I must admit, I have found it a bit peculiar how drastically the land changes here,” Rán told her. “But then again, I am from a part of Dorwinion where there are only two types of landscapes: Flat, open prairies and dense, mixed forests.” He couldn’t help but smile as, when she had found enough tarragon, she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to hand the vendor her money.

Baylee nodded in agreement as she carefully set the herbs in the basket; she wanted there to be plenty of room should she find the jarred tomatoes. “When we first came up here after the Burning, I was fairly shocked, too. I mean, I grew up bein’ able t’ see most o’ the Lonely Mountain from my bedroom window, so I knew it had to be at least a _bit_ rocky up here, but seeing just _how_ rocky it was shocked me.” She started to lead him off again.

“It must have been hard, having to adapt to this new landscape when you were so used to living on the lake.” He glanced at her, feeling quite pleased that she still wore the love-knots in her hair. Part of him wondered if, had she known what the braids symbolized to dwarves, she would have taken them or left in.

“It was harder for some an’ easier for others,” she said. “That winter, _everyone_ stayed up here, since there wasn’t much we could do with the ruins o’ Laketown. With help from the elves an’ the dwarves, though, most everyone survived t’ see the spring.” Instead of leading him towards another vendor, she took him down one of the quieter side-streets.

“That is good to hear—that so many survived, I mean.” Reaching over, he gently brushed two of the braids over her shoulder, his knuckles gently brushing against her cheek. “Especially since they have gone on to rebuild such a beautiful city.”

Her cheeks grew warm and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “A-aye, it is a lovely city, isn’t it?” she chuckled, hoping she didn’t sound _too_ nervous. “A far cry from how we found it, that’s for certain.” She then pointed at a building about a dozen yards from them. “This, by the way, is the best place t’ get hair oils,” she told him. “They have all sorts o’ scents—even some imported from Dorwinion. They’ve also got lots o’ other things for sale in here.”

Looking up at the sign, Rán read aloud, “Lightfoot Trading Emporium…? It does sound promising.”

“It’s run by Prim’s family,” she explained, “so I might be a _wee_ bit biased, but I can promise that they have good quality products in here.” Opening the door, she stepped into the building only to be greeted by a scent she knew to be sandalwood.

“Baylee, lass! Long time no see!” A woman around Demelza’s age came out from behind a counter, her arms outspread; it was all too obvious her daughters had taken after her when it came to their appearance.

Grinning, Baylee walked over and gave her a big hug. “Hello, Mrs. Lightfoot,” she said. A small squeak left her mouth as the woman easily plucked her up off the ground and gave her an extra squeeze.

“How’re my girls doing over at that inn o’ yours, hmm? Not causing too much trouble, I trust?” She set Baylee back down before putting her hands on her hips, a smile still on her lips.

“None at all,” Baylee assured her. “Rosalyn an’ Rosamunde are quick learners, so come dinner, I’m sure they’ll be o’ great help.”

“Good, good…Admittedly, I had my reservations about them going to work for you, since they’ve lived a rather privileged life thus far, but I’m sure it’ll be a good experience for them,” she chuckled. Then, noticing the man standing behind her, her brow rose slightly and a small smile came to her lips. “And who’s this handsome lad you’ve got with you?” she then asked. “Guessing by his uniform, he’s one o’ those rangers who’s been stayin’ at the inn?”

“I am,” Rán said with a friendly smile before giving a small bow. “My name is Rán. I am the leader of the rangers.”

Mrs. Lightfoot looked rather impressed. “Well, welcome to my family’s humble shop,” she chuckled. “We’ve got a variety of products from all over the place, so I hope you’ll be able t’ find anything you need.”

“Which is hair oil,” Baylee told her. She then pointed to a set of shelves on the left side of the shop. “You’ll find them over there, on the three middle shelves.”

Rán thanked her before going over to the shelves to browse the selection.

“And what about you, young lady? Are you in need o’ anything today?” Mrs. Lightfoot questioned, starting to lead Baylee towards the counter.

“I do, actually. Do you happen t’ have any jarred tomatoes handy?”

Mrs. Lightfoot let out a small laugh. “I do, as a matter o’ fact! But I don’t have many left. How many are you needing, dear?”

“Galiene requested three large jars if possible.”

“Mm…Will two large jars and two small jars be acceptable?” she questioned, taking Baylee’s basket from her.

“I’m sure they will be.” She chuckled as she watched the woman disappear behind a beaded curtain. Peeking over her shoulder, she could see Rán looking over the different choices of hair oil. ‘Hm. I am getting low on my own oils, so I suppose I should get more while I’m here.’

As she walked towards the shelves, Rán glanced over at her. “I was able to find the same oils that Ashailyn and Kreine use, but it would seem they do not have the scent I usually use,” he told her, amusement in his voice.

“Really? What scent would that be?” she questioned.

“Juniper.” He leaned back slightly, looking over the bottles on the lower of the three shelves.

“Hm. They usually do have that in stock,” she told him. “If you’d like, I could ask Mrs. Lightfoot if there’s any in the back?”

He shook his head, giving her a small smile. “No, no; there is no need. This just gives me the chance to try a new scent.” He then glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Is there any in particular you would recommend?”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I-I’m afraid I’m not very good when it comes t’ recommending scents,” she admitted. “I never have been, since I tend t’ stay with the same three or four. My only suggestion is t’ stay away from lavender.” Spotting a bottle that was labeled ‘cherry’, her head tilted slightly and she picked it up. She opened it and sniffed its contents; though it was missing the hints of tobacco, the scent almost instantly reminded her of Bofur.

“Why do you not recommend lavender?” he asked, curious. “Is it too potent?”

She shrugged, stopping the bottle with its cork once more. “T’ be honest, most o’ us inn staff aren’t fans o’ the stuff,” she explained. “Since we use it t’ help freshen up rooms that haven’t been used in a while an’ my uncle uses it a lot in his medicines, we’re fairly sick o’ the stuff.”

“That is understandable,” he said with a small laugh. Looking back at the bottles, a thoughtful expression came to his face and he reached for one labeled ‘frankincense’.

‘Now that is a strange looking word,’ Baylee thought, putting the cork back into the bottle of cherry hair oil. ‘Fran-kin-ken-see? Frank-ink-seen-se? Maybe it’s a word from some other language?’ Pretending she hadn’t seen its label, she asked, “Which scent is that one?”

“Frankincense,” he replied, removing the cork to sniff the contents. “Not a scent I would normally consider, as it was frequently used in medicines back in Dorwinion.” He offered the bottle to her so she could smell it as well. “But after being away from home for a few months has made it more pleasant to me.”

After sniffing the oil, a thoughtful expression came to Baylee’s face. “It makes me think o’ freshly cut cedar boughs. But not quite as strong.”

“I am afraid I do not know what cedar boughs smell like,” he said, corking the bottle once more. Putting the bottle back on the shelf, he grabbed a different one; upon opening and smelling it, a small, almost silly grin came to his lips. “Ah…This one makes me think of your delicious baking.” Once more, he offered the bottle to her, his grin turning a bit more victorious when he saw how red her cheeks quickly turned.

This time, she was met by the smell of lemons and oranges, though there was something else mixed in with them; it was sweeter—almost like sugar—but it was also, in an odd way, warmer. “That does smell good,” she said with a small chuckle. “I can smell the orange an’ the lemon, but I’m not sure what that third scent is.”

“It is vanilla,” he explained. Corking the bottle, he moved to leave the spot. “It is a plant that comes from the eastern shores. Vanilla beans are just as hard to get as chocolate, but vanilla essence is much easier to get ahold of. It is frequently used in baking sweet things.”

She nodded in understanding. “If ever Will goes back t’ Dorwinion, it sounds like I’ll have t’ have him pick some up,” she chuckled, “unless the Lightfoots get any in.” After a few seconds, her brows rose as she got an idea. “Ooh, or I can have Bofur show me where Dori’s shop is when we go t’ Erebor…” she thought aloud.

“…You will be going to Erebor soon? With Bofur?” Though he tried to hide his dislike of Bofur from her, Baylee could still hear a bit of it in his voice.

“Aye. The day after tomorrow,” she explained, feeling a bit guilty that she had mentioned it. “I need t’ go there t’ commission a spear that’s more suited t’ my height an’ Bofur’s going t’ come with in order t’ make sure I get a good deal.” As they approached the counter, she saw that Mrs. Lightfoot had her basket filled with jars of tomatoes.

“Did you find everything alright, dears?” she asked, smiling at the pair.

Rán nodded, offering her a smile in return. “Your selection of hair oils is quite diverse. I was not expecting to find frankincense and citrus scents this far north.”

A mischievous twinkle came to the older woman’s eye. “That would be one of the perks to having family in Dorwinion,” she chuckled. Taking the bottles from Rán, she looked over the names and wrote them down in a book, along with what price each was. “That’ll be ten silver, my lord,” she told him. As Rán brought out his coin purse, she started to write down the amount of jarred tomatoes and their prices.

“Oh, and this,” Baylee told her, setting the bottle of hair oil on the counter.

Plucking it up, Mrs. Lightfoot read the label only for her brow to rise. “Cherry? Have you finally grown tired o’ almond then, dear?” she chuckled.

“Not tired o’ it, no, but I did think it was time for a bit o’ a change.” She brushed one of her braids over her shoulder as she brought out her own coin purse, beginning to pull out the amount of coins needed without being told the total yet.

“With all the baking you do, dear, you’re goin’ to be smelling like a cherry pie!” She smiled as she took the coins from both of them; they soon heard the sound of the coins sliding down into a metal box.

“Better than smellin’ like a pork pie!” Baylee chirped, her tone teasing. She grinned as the two did their best to _not_ snort.

* * *

“Word has it that your sister’s caught the attention o’ the leader of those rangers.”

“Mhm…An’ he’s caught hers. But Bofur _also_ has her attention an’ he’s the bloke who matters.”

“You don’t like the idea o’ Baylee being with a handsome military man?” Adela quietly laughed as she let her fingers comb through Will’s hair. They were sitting under a tree in the abandoned garden, his head in her lap. “Prim’s told me that he’s one o’ the most handsome men she’s ever seen.”

“Aye, he’s handsome, but I have yet t’ see him make Baylee laugh as much as Bofur does. That, an’—an’, as nice o’ a person he is, I just can’t see him with my sister.” Opening his eyes, he peered up at his love through the darkness, the light of the new moon _just_ enough to let him see her silhouette.

Picking up a lock of his hair, she idly began to braid it. “Are there any other reasons?”

“There is an’ I promise that I found out this information _after_ I started wantin’ ‘Lee and Bofur t’ be a couple, so it’s only making me want them t’ end up together more,” he said. He let out a small sighed before explaining, “Dwarves only fall in love once. If somethin’ happens to their lover, that’s it. They’ll just be alone for the rest o’ their life. _Except_ in rare cases, when a dwarf’s granted somethin’ they call a Second Chance. It’s just like it sounds—a second chance at findin’ love and bein’ happy. An’, well…Bofur’s one o’ those lucky few.”

She frowned, her head tilting ever so slightly. “So…he was married before or…?”

“Engaged. From what Bifur said, it took him decades to get over his fiancée’s death.”

Nodding in understanding, Adela picked up another lock of hair and began to braid it as well. “And Baylee was in a similar situation with Bard, only instead o’ him dying, he picked another woman…” She made a quiet noise of contemplation. “But you said Bofur makes her laugh?”

“Hardly a day goes by that he’s not sayin’ or doin’ something that’s sending her into a giggle fit.”

“How’s Rán around her?”

He shrugged. “Admittedly, I don’t know. Since I’m at work most o’ the day, I don’t see much o’ their interactions. From what I hear, though, Rán is _very_ open about bein’ attracted to her an’ I’ve seen him unabashedly flirt with her when she’s servin’ him at dinner—hell, he’s even put love-knots in her hair!”

Her brow rose in amusement. “Love-knots?”

He gave her a cheeky, albeit apologetic, smile. “Ah, yeah—I just learned about them yesterday, but apparently dwarves have a specific braid they use to show how much they love their lover an’ t’ tell other dwarves t’ stay away.”

She frowned in confusion, her brows knitting together now. “Why would Rán use a dwarven braid then? To intimidate Bofur?”

“Yes and no. Rán’s half dwarf.”

“He’s half dwarf!?” Though he couldn’t see her expression well, Will knew her eyes were wide and her jaw was slightly slack.

“Aye, he is,” he chuckled. “You wouldn’t expect it, though, given how much he takes after his human parent. The only things that really give it away are his height, his ears, an’ his hands, but the second two aren’t even that noticeable.”

Adela quietly laughed, setting down the second braid in favor combing through his hair again. “That makes sense, then,” she murmured. “An’ I suppose Bofur wasn’t very fond of seeing those love-knots?”

“Not at all. Poor bloke thinks he doesn’t stand much o’ a chance, given how handsome an’ charming Rán is.”

“Oh no! Did you cheer him up somehow?”

He nodded. “Aye. I reminded him that he’ll be spendin’ all o’ tomorrow with ‘Lee in Erebor, which means he’ll have plenty o’ chances t’ flirt with her.”

“Why will they be in Erebor?” She pulled her hands away as Will sat up.

Scooting backwards so that his back was against the tree, he slipped his arm around Adela. “She needs t’ get a spear for her trip t’ Laketown. Da’s not letting her go down there unarmed.” He pulled her closer to him, kissing her cheek.

“That makes sense,” she chuckled. “Speaking o’ getting things, though…A certain handsome lad I know has a birthday coming up quite soon.” She rested her head against his shoulder, sighing in content.

His brow rose and he chuckled. “Oh, really? Who would that be?” he joked. He tilted his head as well, letting it rest atop hers.

“Very funny,” she murmured, a smile on her lips. “Is there anything you’d like for your birthday? Or should I just do the same as the last three years an’ bake you an apple custard pie?”

“Mmm…The pie and some of your kisses is all I’d like.”

“And you’re certain there’s nothin’ else?” she asked, her brow rising. “No tools or anything?”

“Nope.”

“William Braddock, you are such a frustrating man sometimes,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Mark my words, I’ll find you _some_ sort o’ gift aside from one of my pies.”

His free hand rose up, his finger waving at her in a mock scolding fashion. “And kisses. Don’t forget about your kisses—I daresay they’re more important than the pie.” A cheeky grin came to his lips as she lightly swatted his hand. He kissed the top of her head once more before sighing in content. “In all honesty, the only thing I really want for my birthday is for you t’ be out of your dad’s inn. Maybe a ring on your finger an’ your last name bein’ ‘Braddock’ instead o’ Stover…but I know that’s goin’ t’ take a while yet.”

“Mmm…have you thought about what part o’ town would be best for gettin’ a house?” she asked, her hand reaching over. She laced her fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I was actually thinking this house.”

She lifted her head, a confused look on her face. “This one? Why this one?”

“Why not? We already meet here all o’ the time. It’s big enough that we can have a family, but small enough that I wouldn’t be fixin’ it up to the end o’ my days…Not to mention, all the memories we’ve made out here in the garden.” He chuckled as she lightly nudged him. “In all seriousness, love? I think this would be a good fit for us.”

Adela looked up past the tree’s branches at the house. It was three stories tall, not including its cellar, and from her and Will’s earlier explorations of the place, she knew it had plenty of rooms and a nice, large kitchen. They figured it was once a house that belonged to a family of nobility who needed space for their servants to stay. It would definitely need a lot of work to get it back to being in livable condition, but, like the rest of the houses in Dale, it had good bones. And with how many friends in the various crafting occupations Will had…

“You don’t think it’s too big?” she asked after a moment.

“I mean…I suppose it depends on how big o’ a family we want t’ have someday, but I figured we can always kidnap Lovisa t’ come live with us an’ help with our future kids.”

She burst into a fit of giggles. “You wouldn’t need t’ kidnap her, love—she’d be all too willing t’ come help.”

“I also wouldn’t need t’ kidnap her because Baylee’s goin’ t’ try her damnedest t’ get her t’ come back up t’ Dale at the end o’ the trip.” He grinned as her giggles filled his ears; it was one of his favorite sounds.

“Oh, that’d be nice! You haven’t gotten t’ see her in quite a while.”

He nodded in agreement. “Aye an’ neither has da’. Not t’ mention, I think it’d be nice for her t’ get t’ chat with some dwarves—she’s always around humans, after all. I think she’d enjoy havin’ conversations with the lads.”

“Would she have conversations with them or would she be too busy frettin’ over your family?” Adela joked. “It’s been so long, I have no doubt she’ll smother the lot o’ you with a few years’ worth o’ affection.”

“Luckily, she’ll get some o’ it out when Baylee heads down there. Though…now that I think about it, she’s goin’ to do most o’ her frettin’ over auntie.”

She frowned. “Why’s that?”

“You haven’t heard?” Adela shook her head. “She tore her tendon while sparring with ‘Lee.”

Her eyes shot open. “How in the world did she do that!?”

He shrugged. “Da’ says it was probably a combination o’ going too hard an’ her getting old.”

“Is she alright though? A torn tendon is no minor injury…”

“Her pride’s dented an’ she’s not allowed t’ walk for a few weeks, but other than that, aye, she’s fine. But even when she does start walkin’ again, she has t’ wear a brace t’ help her walk. “

“So she’s not going t’ be able t’ help with the customers for a while, then.”

He shook his head. “No, she’s not, but that’s alright. Prim an’ two of her sisters are temporarily workin’ for us t’ take auntie an’ Lee’s spots. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll be able t’ help Galiene an’ Gawen in the kitchen. She’s got good choppin’ skills that they’ll be needin’ soon.”

Closing her eyes, she snuggled into him and let out a soft sigh. “That’s right. That dwarven prince will be visitin’ next week, won’t he?”

“Mhm. Galiene’s already put in an order for a whole hog with Halfast. He’ll be deliverin’ it two days before Fili gets here so Galiene can make sure it’s all primed an’ ready t’ go.”

“Ooh, she’s doin’ one o’ her roasted hogs, is she?” A small grin came to her lips. “Will it be cooked over a spit or is she goin’ t’ do it in the ground?”

“In the ground. From what Halfast said, the pig he’s got picked out for her is much too big for any spit—unless we have him do more butcherin’ than just cleaning out the offal an’ other innards. But no, Galiene wants this t’ be a _whole_ roast hog.”

She quietly laughed. “I may have t’ try t’ sneak away just so I can get some o’ it. She’s always been able t’ get the skin super crispy while the meat stays nice an’ moist.”

“Aye, she has…She said it’s some sort o’ family secret, but I’m pretty sure she just salts the skin for the few days leadin’ up to when she roasts it.”

“Hm…you don’t think Gawen knows the secret, do you?”

His brow rose as he glanced down at her. “I don’t think so, no. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “He’s young. I bet I could get any o’ Galiene’s cookin’ secrets from him if I leaned over just a bit too far or wore my bodice just a wee bit tighter,” she answered, her tone teasing.

“Oh, now that’s just downright _cruel_ ,” Will laughed. “Giving the poor lad an eyeful just so you can get some cookin’ secrets out o’ him…”

“Hm. You’re right—that is a wee bit too cruel for a lad who’s barely turned nineteen. I _could_ bribe him with some pie instead. Do you know what kind he likes?”

Will snorted and, leaning over, kissed her cheek. “Nice try, love,” he told her. “Even if I did know, though, I wouldn’t be tellin’ you—an’ flashing your lovely cleavage at me won’t work, either.”

Though he couldn’t see it, he knew a mischievous smirk had come to her lips. “Is that so?” Turning, she draped her arms around his neck and started to plant kisses along his jaw. “I suppose I’ll just have t’ bare a little more skin for you, then.”

He grinned, his arms wrapping around her once more. “Oh, I quite like the sound of that…”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super early update because I finished editing sooner than expected~

“Are you _sure_ I look alright?”

“Aye, lad, you look perfectly fine. Now stop your frettin’! If you put too much effort into your appearance, she’ll think you’re up t’ something.” Bifur shook his head as he brushed a bit of hair off Bofur’s shoulders. His cousin was wearing somewhat nicer clothes than normal—still everyday ones, but they didn’t have nearly as much wear and tear as his usual attire. They were also different in color, being that his tunic was a deep, royal blue and his shirt was charcoal grey instead of his normal shades of brown and mustard yellow. “Though, maybe you should leave your hat here.”

Bofur frowned as he looked at him. “What’s wrong with my hat?”

“It’s a wee bit silly, don’t you think?” Ori said from his bed, where he was busy darning a pair of socks for Bifur. “I mean, normally, it suits you quite well, but you’re tryin’ t’ impress Baylee…”

Nori, who was leaning against the wall near the door, shook his head. “I say keep it. It’s part o’ his identity by this point, so tryin’ t’ separate it from him is what’s silly.” He then shrugged and chuckled. “An’ you never know—she might actually think he’s more attractive with it.”

His cheeks turning red at Nori’s words, Bofur unconsciously grabbed the ends of his pigtails and held them together, his thumbs running over the plaits. “Y-you really think she might find me attractive?”

“I don’t know _anyone_ who isn’t physically attracted t’ their partner, Bofur,” Nori said, his voice bland. Opening the door a bit, he leaned out and tilted his head.

“B-But she’s not my partner,” Bofur argued.

“ _Yet_.” There was a mischievous grin on Nori’s lips now.

“You need t’ relax, Bofur,” Ori then said. “It’s not like you’ll be tryin’ t’ ask her to marry you or something.”

“Knowing Bofur, he’d do that by accident,” Bifur chuckled. He gently pulled Bofur’s braids out of his hands. “Ori’s right, though. You do need t’ calm down. An’ grab a cloak—it looks like it may rain on the two o’ you.”

Bofur frowned. “Does it…?” He went over to the window and looked up at the sky. There were dark clouds rolling in from the south, though they were still quite a way off. “Hm. I hope it stays away long enough for us t’ get into the mountain…” Then, looking down into the courtyard, he could see Peter leading his pony and Baylee’s mare out of the stables; both were fully saddled and ready to go.

“I can hear Baylee, so I think it’s about time you head back down, Bofur,” Nori said as he leaned back into the room.

Going over to his bed, Bofur picked up his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders, a nervous sigh leaving his mouth. “I hope everything goes well,” he murmured, pinning it into place. He staggered forward as Bifur gave him a hearty thump on the back.

“Oh, stop your worryin’!” his cousin told him. “You don’t have t’ act any different than normal just because it’ll only be the two o’ you. Pretend it’s just one o’ your morning chats.”

At that, Bofur’s brow rose. “I’d rather not, since Rán decided t’ butt his way into those,” he said. He then shook his head. “No. This is goin’ to be better than one o’ those, since we’ll have the whole day t’ talk an’ that ranger won’t be there t’ interrupt.”

“Exactly,” Nori chuckled, his brow rising. He pushed the door open and nodded towards the hallway. “Best get down there soon. Don’t want to keep her waiting, after all.”

Nodding, Bofur patted the various pouches hanging from his belt, making sure he had everything. He then felt the top of his head, finding that his hat was still in place. Now knowing that he had everything he needed, he took a deep breath and, after bidding his cousin and friends a good day, he left the room.

As he walked down the stairs, he was greeted by the sight of Baylee standing at the bar, balancing a tray atop her head. Rosalyn was steadily placing more and more empty tankards on it as the shorter woman did her best to keep it balanced. His brow rose and he chuckled; so far, there were seven mugs on the tray with an eighth being placed.

Spotting the dwarf, Baylee smiled and gave him a small wave. “Give me just a few minutes, Bofur,” she told him. “We’ve got a bet goin’ on.”

“Oh? Seein’ how many tankards you can balance atop your noggin?” Walking over to the bar, he felt his cheeks grow the slightest bit warm; Baylee was wearing her brown dress and yellow overdress.

“I bet she could do fifteen,” Primrose told him. “Rosalyn thinks she can only do ten, and Rosamunde says thirteen.”

Rosamunde grinned as she passed another mug to her eldest sister. “We each have three silver at stake,” she added, “so I’m really hopin’ she gets that thirteen.”

“The problem is,” Baylee said, leaning slightly to the left, “that the tray is gettin’ to be too full, so Rosalyn’s goin’ to have to start stackin’ the mugs—then it becomes a double balancin’ game: I need t’ keep the tray balanced while she balances the mugs!” Her eyes looked upwards as she saw another tankard being handed over.

“Just be glad they aren’t full o’ drink,” he teased. “We wouldn’t want you t’ spill beer an’ ale all over that pretty dress o’ yours.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning a touch pink. “Aye, especially since it’d mean I’d have t’ get changed all over aga—” The tray started to slip off her head and she quickly reached up, catching it.

“That was my fault,” Rosalyn said with an apologetic frown. “I was trying to keep all the weight in the middle, but…”

“Well, there were ten tankards atop her head when she was forced to stop, so that means you get six silver,” Primrose sighed. “Unless you were trying to cheat,” she accused jokingly.

Rosalyn looked playfully offended. “Why, Primrose! Accusing your eldest sister o’ cheating? Cheating’s not very ladylike, after all!”

Baylee snorted, passing the tray off to Rosamunde so the sisters could put away the tankards. “I’ll see you three later,” she chuckled, grabbing her cloak and a basket from off the counter. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

The trio of sisters smiled at her and bid her goodbye before getting back to their sisterly squabbling.

Bofur chuckled, his brow raised at the three of them. “Now that’s somethin’ you don’t hear every day,” he said, opening the door for Baylee. “Usin’ the excuse that cheating isn’t very ladylike.”

“Aye, that’s their excuse for gettin’ out o’ almost everything,” she laughed. She thanked him as she stepped outside before pinning her cloak on. “An’ it works most o’ the time, too.”

“Except when they use it on each other, it looks like,” he smiled. As he glanced over at her, he could see that her basket was filled with something; he had expected it to be empty. “What do you have in the basket, lass?”

“Oh!” She smiled a bit sheepishly, her cheeks growing pinker. “I thought I’d bring a few loaves o’ bread for your brother’s family,” she explained. As she walked over to Buttercup, she attached the basket to the saddlebag by lacing a buckle around its handle. “I hope that’s alright.”

He felt his insides grow a touch warm. “Aye, that’s quite alright, lass,” he assured her with a chuckle. He patted his pony’s neck only to laugh as the little stallion started to rub his nose against his face. “Alright, Topaz, calm down you silly thing,” he murmured, patting him atop the head now.

“His name’s Topaz?” Baylee asked, a smile on her lips as well. She stole a peek over at Bofur; she had been surprised that he was wearing a color other than brown. ‘But that blue looks quite handsome on him,’ she thought. Forcing herself to look away, she reached up and grabbed her saddle before putting her foot in the stirrup.

“Aye. I thought it fittin’, since his coat is kind o’ a light brown in color.” He looked over at her in time to see her easily lift herself up onto her saddle; rather than throw her leg over the side, though, she instead hooked it around the horn of her saddle so that she was sitting aside. He cocked his head, having never seen someone sit like that before. “…Why’re you sitting like that, lass?”

“Because I’m wearin’ a dress,” she explained, taking a few minutes to get the fabric of her dress and overdress straightened out. “Most o’ my dresses have enough fabric that I can ride astride while stayin’ decent, but this one’s a wee bit more fitted, so aside it is.”

Part of him started to wonder why she had chosen to wear that dress if her others were better suited for riding. “Huh. I never knew that there was another way for sittin’ on a horse.” Chuckling, he pulled himself up onto Topaz’s saddle. “Doesn’t it hurt though? Since part o’ the saddle is digging into the back o’ your leg?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no. After three or four hours or some rough ridin’, aye, it’ll hurt, but I don’t think I’ll be doing any racin’ today.” As she looked down at Bofur and Topaz, she had to bite back a giggle; because Topaz was a good four or five hands shorter than Buttercup, the pair looked quite small. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, he looked up at her and felt his cheeks turn a bit pink. She looked so pretty, sitting on her mare like that…“Aye, I’m ready,” he replied, grinning. He lightly kicked his heels against Topaz’s sides and the pony started to walk towards the archway.

Buttercup followed alongside him, Baylee having made a clicking sound with her tongue. “I hope the rain holds off until we’re in the mountain,” she commented as she looked up at the sky. “I wouldn’t want the bread gettin’ soggy.”

He looked up at the sky as well, thankful to see that the clouds seemed to be moving slowly. “Those clouds aren’t movin’ too fast, so we should have plenty o’ time. Or, if they do reach us, we’ll be close enough t’ the mountain that we won’t be in the rain too long.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Anyway, Bombur’s family doesn’t mind it if their bread’s a wee bit soggy—it’d just turn into a puddin’ at that point!”

“I’m not sure how tasty o’ a pudding soda bread with currants would make when mixed with rainwater,” she laughed, her brow rising.

“Ooh, soda bread with currants? It’s been a long while since I’ve had some o’ that. I might have t’ steal some before we reach the mountain.” A cheeky grin came to his face as he teasingly reached back for the basket. “I’m sure they won’t miss _one_ loaf, after all…”

“Don’t you dare!” she laughed, leaning over to playfully smack his arm. “You’ll have t’ be patient an’ wait for lunch t’ roll around like a good dwarf.”

He put on a playful pout. “Aw, but what if I get hungry on the way there? A few wee nibbles can’t be _too_ bad, aye?” As she continued to laugh, he felt rather proud that he was getting her to laugh so much when they were only a few dozen yards away from the inn.

“You had a big, hearty breakfast, so not even a nibble for you,” she giggled. “An’ I know Bifur an’ Nori didn’t steal any o’ your food today, since you had eaten before they were even up!”

The cheeky grin returned to his face. “Aye, an’ it was a delicious big, hearty breakfast,” he told her. “I can only hope you made yourself one that was just as hearty.”

“I wouldn’t quite call it ‘hearty’, but I did have myself a good meal,” she assured him. “I wanted t’ make sure I’d have enough room t’ eat some o’ Bombur an’ Gerdi’s cookin’ later, after all.”

“Ahh, that’s a good plan. You humans don’t have as voracious of an appetite as we dwarves.”

She tilted her head; that was a new word to her. “Voracious…? What does that mean?”

“It means wanting t’ or bein’ able t’ eat lots an’ lots of food.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. An’ it does describe you lot well enough—especially first thing in the mornin’.”

“It’s not good t’ be workin’ on an empty stomach. It’ll start yellin’ at you after an hour or so. But if you keep it well fed, you won’t hear a complaint from it until you have t’ use the privy.”

Baylee snorted, having to cover her mouth due to how unladylike it was; Primrose and her sisters were already rubbing off on her and it had only been two days. Her cheeks turned pink when she realized she drawn some attention to herself from the people they were passing by. “My human stomach must be a bit tougher than yours then,” she chuckled. “I’ve gone hours without eatin’ breakfast an’ my stomach never complained.”

His brow rose slightly and he looked up at her. “I hope that’s not somethin’ that happens very often.”

“No, not anymore, thankfully.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, guiding Buttercup around a corner. “In the early days o’ being in Dale, though, it was common. But, I also had a lot more things t’ do back then.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Well, since this was when the inn was still under construction, I not only had my normal chores in the kitchen, but I also had t’ make sure that I got the fires lit for the steamin’ boxes an’ for papa’s forge. At the time, we had chickens an’ a cow, so I had t’ collect the eggs an’ milk the cow an’ then feed them, too. Sometimes, I’d have t’ run over to the market in order t’ get something we were out of…Basically, I had a lot o’ stuff to do,” she chuckled.

His head tilted slightly. “Steaming boxes? What were those for?”

“Woodworkers use them to steam boards to make them more flexible,” she explained. “You could also leave the water out an’ use them for dryin’ wood, too. Will an’ the other woodworkers had a constant rotation goin’ when Dale was being rebuilt.”

“Huh. That’s interesting—I might have t’ try steaming wood now. There are a few toys Bifur an’ I make that involve bendin’ pieces into place an’ we’re always a bit scared that we’re goin’ t’ break them. Wonder if the lad would be willin’ t’ show us how t’ build a steam box…”

“If the pieces are small enough, all you really need is a pot o’ boilin’ water, a couple o’ sticks, an’ a lid. Once the water’s boiling, use the sticks t’ hold the piece o’ wood across the top an’ then cover it with the lid. It’s not quite as efficient as the boxes since a lot o’ steam escapes between the pot an’ lid, but if you’re just doin’ small things, it’s fairly handy.”

He nodded in understanding. “I suppose just boilin’ the wood wouldn’t work, though?”

“It might, but you’d have t’ check with Will about that. For all I know, boilin’ the wood would just turn it t’ mush or something,” she chuckled.

“If I remember about it by this time tomorrow, I’ll be sure t’ ask him about it,” he told her, a bit of laughter in his voice as well.

The pair seemed to have timed their trip perfectly. During the two hours it took to reach Erebor, not a single drop of rain fell. When they came out of the temporary stables used by visitors, however, they could both see and hear the downpour taking place beyond the gate.

“Hopefully it lets up by the time we head out,” Bofur said, a bit of a concerned look on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Aye. Good thing it won’t be for some hours,” Baylee agreed with a small nod. Then, smiling, she glanced over at him. “But that’s not somethin’ we have t’ worry about right now.”

His brow rose and he chuckled. “Aye, that’s very true, lass.” Turning his back on the gate, he motioned for her to start following him. “Though, looks like I won’t be takin’ you t’ see any o’ the lookout points, since all o’ them are outside.”

“That’s alright. I’m sure there are still plenty o’ things inside the mountain you’ll be showin’ me.” She fell into step with him, holding her basket in the crook of her arm. As she looked around, she saw all sorts of dwarves wandering around and, admittedly, she felt a bit chuffed that she could see right over the tops of their heads. There were a few, however, who were nearly the same height as her.

“Oh, aye. That is, if we don’t get too waylaid by the wee badgers back home.” He stole a peek at her, seeing a bit of awe on her face. “Surprised t’ be seein’ over everyone’s heads?” he joked.

Her cheeks turned a bit pink and she laughed. “Just a little bit,” she admitted. “But also, the first time I came here, there weren’t nearly as many dwarves livin’ here, so seein’ how much the population has increased is a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh, aye—they’ve come from all over, too! The Blue Mountains, the Red Mountains, the Yellow Mountains, an’ the Iron Hills. You can find dwarves from almost all the clans here, too.”

“I take it Ironfists are the exception?”

“I see someone’s been payin’ attention t’ the random tidbits o’ information we blather about,” he grinned.

“O’ course I have! After all, there’s only so much I can ask you durin’ our morning chats.” The further they walked into the city, the more she started to notice just how much jewelry and hair adornments the dwarrow dames were wearing. Some, though, wore hardly any; those ones also appeared to be younger. “Though, speakin’ o’ asking you things…Why do some o’ the dwarrow dames have a lot o’ jewelry on while others barely have any?”

He blinked and looked around; being a dwarf, he was used to seeing the women clad in copious amounts of silver and gold. To him, they weren’t actually wearing too much—in fact, some of the older ones looked to be quite reserved in their accessories! “Ah, it’s a bit o’ an age and relationship thing,” he explained. “Until a dwarrow dame comes o’ age, she doesn’t wear or receive too much jewelry—the exception bein’ inheritances from deceased family members an’ things they’ve purchased on their own. When she gets t’ be o’ age, though, she starts receivin’ pieces o’ jewelry an’ hair beads because, well, she’s a woman an’ we dwarves spoil our women, whether we’re courtin’ them or not.” He chuckled, hooking his thumbs through his beltloops as he walked. “As for why they wear so much o’ it, the women who are married tend t’ wear more o’ it than others as a way of saying ‘look how much my husband loves me’.”

She nodded in understanding, quietly laughing. “Sounds like it’s just a much more extreme form o’ how we humans dote on one another,” she said. “Lads will give lasses jewelry if they’re courtin’, but until they’re plannin’ to propose, it’s never anythin’ as elegant as the stuff I’m seein’ the dwarrow dames wearing. It’s usually just a little charm bracelet or a simple pendant on a chain.”

“We don’t do simple when it comes t’ jewelry—at least, when it comes t’ our women. Even the ‘simplest’ bits o’ our jewelry would probably be what human nobility wears. The jewelry worn by us lads, though, can be fairly simple. Rings are usually just plain bands or bands with a single stone; ear cuffs have simple designs; an’ hair beads tend t’ have simple designs as well…after all, there are so many o’ us lads, we’re not really worth spoilin’.”

“At least, not with jewelry, but I’m sure you lads get spoiled with plenty o’ good food an’ drink.”

He snorted. “Ah, you got me there, lass! That’s very true. Hardly any dwarves are bad cooks.” He then paused, his brows knitting together slightly. “Except Dori. The only thing he’s good at makin’ are pots o’ tea and charcutier boards.”

She looked at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “A…a _what_ board?”

“Charcutier,” he repeated, chuckling. “It might just be a thing among hobbits, but it’s a type o’ big ol’ board filled with fruits, cheeses, an’ cured meats. Sometimes, there are breads, too. It’s meant for snackin’ on rather than being a whole meal.”

“So…it’s basically a fancier version o’ the trays o’ snacks I bring you lads?”

“Mhm. Though, t’ be quite honest, I much prefer your snack trays. I can actually pronounce the names o’ all the food on them.”

Laughing, she playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could pronounce most o’ the fancy meats an’ cheeses Dori an’ hobbits use.”

“I could…or I could also purposefully mess them up just t’ see Dori get flustered,” he snickered. “One o’ the meats he imports is especially good for mispronouncing.”

“Let me guess: Prosciutto?”

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at her in shock. “How did…?”

A cheeky-yet-innocent grin came to her lips. “We used t’ have it in the original Tankard. I may have accidentally called it ‘pro-shit-oh’ a number o’ times.”

Bofur burst out laughing; he drew less attention here than he would have in Dale. “That’s _exactly_ what I call it!” he snickered. “It’s t’ the point where I’m banned from sayin’ it around him. Quite a shame, really; he makes the silliest faces when you say fancy names wrong.”

“I believe it,” she giggled, her brow rising. As they drew nearer to an enormous archway, she could hear the people beyond it hocking their wares to passersby. “The market sounds busy.”

“Aye, though believe it or not, this is one o’ its less busy days. But where we’re headin’ to is over this way.” He pointed at a smaller archway a few dozen yards away on the opposite side of the street. “This is where the craftin’ region is. Like Dale, it’s separated further by each craft, though unlike Dale, they’re not located in all different parts o’ the city.”

She nodded in understanding, intrigued by this. “How are they separated, then? Each street is a different craft?”

“Mm…sort of. It’s kind o’ hard to explain without a map, but the crafting region is laid out in a sort o’ grid. Each section o’ the grid is one type o’ craft, like smithing, fiber arts, pottery—that sort o’ thing. An’ then each o’ those sections are further broken up into the individual occupations. Like, for smithin’, you have the ore processors, the tool makers, the weapons makers…For fiber arts, you’ve got the weavers, the dyers, the embroiderers, an’ the seamstresses an’ tailors.”

“From the sound o’ it, the crafting region is basically its own city o’ workers.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly what it is!” he grinned. “The only exceptions t’ this are the miners an’ the tanners. Obviously, the miners work in the mines while the tanners have their businesses on the outside o’ the mountain.”

“I would hope, given how horrendous they smell,” she chuckled.

Passing through the archway, the two were greeted by the sight of an extremely long street lined with marble buildings of various sizes. There was a sigh strung up between the two foremost buildings, showing a needle and a spindle of thread—the fiber arts district. Bofur led her away from this street, taking her left a few streets. As they approached, Baylee could tell which district it was without needing to see the sign; the sound of hammers on metal echoed up the street towards them. A sign bearing a hammer and anvil confirmed her assumption: The smithing district.

“It’s goin’ t’ get loud down here,” he warned her, “so Iglishmêk is used more than Westron or Khuzdul.”

“Makes sense. Though…I have to ask: Why not just buy a spear from a shop in the market?”

A cheeky grin came to his lips. “It’s always cheaper t’ buy right from the maker than it is from the middleman, since there’s no middleman who _also_ has t’ make a profit. The only downside is that you don’t get as big o’ a selection, since it’s only the work o’ one person you’re seeing.” They turned down the street and he frowned slightly; it was fairly crowded with many carts lining both sides of the street and workers hauling goods both from the carts and onto the carts. “Ah…I forgot. Today’s delivery day,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is that bad?” she asked, a small frown coming to her lips as well.

“No, no—it just gets a wee bit crowded here an’ it’s easy t’ get separated if you’re not careful enough. We’ll just have t’ be careful is all.”

Baylee cleared her throat, her cheeks turning a touch pink. “I could also hold your hand,” she told him, her tone casual enough. “T’ make doubly sure we don’t end up getting separated.”

Bofur’s face grew warm; he hadn’t expected her to make such a suggestion. Not that he minded, of course. “That’s a smart idea, lass,” he told her with a small laugh. “Simple, but smart.” He offered his hand to her, his cheeks getting a touch warmer when she took it. With their hands safely clasped, he started to lead her off once more.

He took her almost halfway down the long street; all the while, the sounds of hammers got louder and louder. By the time he brought her to a specific building, he was having to sign at her in order to speak with her. Luckily, Iglishmêk was a language that could be used mostly one-handed.

 _‘This is my brother-in-law’s shop,’_ he signed. _‘He makes some of the best weapons in Erebor! But I am a bit biased, so you may want to take that with a grain of sand.’_

She laughed, but the sound was lost among the hammering. _‘I have no choice but to take your word on this,’_ she reminded him. She watched as Bofur stepped up to a pair of wooden shutters; beside them, a thick rope hung. He grabbed this rope and gave it three sharp tugs; they both were barely able to hear the clanging of a bell beyond the wall.

A moment later, the shutters opened to reveal a dwarf with bright, gingery hair and a large beard that was braided into three separate ropes. His eyes widened and a small grin came to his lips when he saw Bofur standing there.

 _‘Bofur! Long time no see! What brings you here?’_ As he signed, he glanced at the human standing alongside Bofur; when Bofur let go of her hand so he could use both signs, the dwarf seemed to grow a bit amused.

_‘Yes, it has been quite a while hasn’t it, Cynyr? I’m here because my companion is in need of one of your spears.’_

_‘She’s_ just _your companion?’_ he teased. His grin grew broader as Bofur’s face grew redder; he didn’t notice how Baylee’s face had grown quite red as well.

 _‘Yes,’_ Bofur replied. _‘And, like I said, she needs a spear. As you can see, she’s small for a human, so a dwarf-sized spear would be best for her.’_

 _‘A human lass needing a spear? That’s not something you hear every day.’_ He looked Baylee over for a moment, doing his best to guesstimate how heavy of a spear she would need. _‘I’m assuming she’d like a normal war spear and not a boar spear? And how long would she like it to be?’_

 _‘You would be correct,’_ Baylee signed, biting back some laughter as Cynyr gawked at her. _‘Preferably a leaf blade, if that’s possible. As for length, I was thinking something around five and a half feet, including spearhead.’_

Unlike Baylee, Bofur _wasn’t_ able to contain his laughter at Cynyr’s expression. _‘I’m sorry—I guess I forgot to mention she knows Iglishmêk.’_

Looking quite embarrassed, Cynyr cleared his throat. _‘I didn’t know any humans knew our signs…’_

 _‘It’s a long story,’_ Bofur told him, _‘but yes, she’s fluent.’_

Cynyr nodded slowly, an apologetic look on his face as he looked at Baylee. _‘My apologies, lass. As for spears with those specifications, I’m not sure I’ve got anything already made like that, but the two of you are welcome to come in and look at what I_ do _have ready.’_ He motioned to a door just off to their right.

Following Bofur as he headed inside, Baylee tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced around. She was surprised to find that it wasn’t much different from her father’s shop—then again, he had been apprenticed under a dwarf, so it shouldn’t have surprised her _too_ much. Along one of the walls were barrels filled with different sorts of pole weapons. One had halberds, another glaives, two of them had spears, and there was even some poleaxes.

 _‘These are the ones I have readymade,’_ Cynyr explained. _‘Most of them are light for us dwarves, but I’m not sure how heavy they’d be to a human.’_

Baylee nodded, starting to look through one of the barrels of spears; admittedly, she was tempted to also look through the glaives. She managed to keep her focus on the spears, though. Many of them, she found, had wooden poles while some were entirely metal and still yet others had metal embedded to add more strength to the wood. In addition to that, almost all of the spears had square shafts.

‘Hm. Not sure if I like the squareness or not,’ she thought, pulling one out. Making sure Cynyr and Bofur weren’t close by, she started to look it over more closely. ‘Though, the squareness does make it easier to grip…It’s also a good height, though it’s a bit heavier than I’d like. That’s probably because of all this metal in the pole section.’ Returning it to the barrel, she continued looking.

While she looked, Bofur and Cynyr stood off to the side, signing away at each other. ‘ _I’m still having a hard time believing that Gerdi gave birth to_ another _daughter,’_ Cynyr was telling Bofur. _‘Three daughters…Aulë’s truly blessed that sister of mine.’_

 _‘And that brother of mine!’_ Bofur grinned. _‘Some folk get all the luck, don’t they? Ah, but our siblings deserve it. They’re wonderful parents.’_

Cynyr nodded in agreement. _‘That they are.’_ He then nodded at Baylee, who had her back to them. ‘ _You sure she’s nothing more than a friend? I saw that you two were holding hands…’_

Bofur’s cheeks grew quite red once more. _‘I’ll admit I fancy her and I think she fancies me, but no. We’re only friends at this point; we were holding hands so we wouldn’t get separated on the way here. Delivery day makes for some crowded streets, after all.’_

 _‘True, true…though, I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to fall for a human lass.’_ He looked over at her again, his brow rising slightly. ‘ _She’s a good height, but she could stand to gain a few pounds and a few whiskers.’_

 _‘No, no—she’s lovely as is.’_ He wore a small pout on his lips as he looked at his brother-in-law. _‘Though…I might agree with her gaining a bit of weight, but only because I wish she didn’t have so many chores to tend to. She’s an innkeeper’s daughter, by the way, so she’s running around most of the day.’_

Cynyr nodded in understanding. _‘Should take her over to your place so Gerdi can stuff her before you leave.’_

A bit of a mischievous grin came to Bofur’s lips. _‘We will be heading over there later. I’m going to take her to the market after this, though. Might wander through the jewelers’ district to see if she likes anything.’_

Nodding, Cynyr, too, wore a mischievous smile. _‘Going to try and sneak her a gift, are you?’_

Bofur shrugged, still wearing the grin. He didn’t have time to reply, though, as Baylee turned around, rubbing the side of her neck. _‘Did you see any you liked, lass?’_

_‘Yes, I did, but most of them are too heavy for me, I’m afraid.’_

A look of understanding came to Cynyr’s face. ‘ _I thought that may end up being the case,’_ he signed. ‘ _Lucky for you, though, I don’t have any orders to fill for the day. So why don’t we get talking about some specifics and I can either hammer one out or modify an existing one for you.’_

* * *

Rán was beyond thankful that his cloak was waterproof.

Usually, he didn’t mind riding in the rain, but on a cool day like today in an even cooler climate, it made him want nothing more than to turn Galal around and head back to the city. Instead, though, he continued to ride south with Fifika and Seth flanking him; as the leader of the rangers, he knew he had to set a good example.

“What miserable weather! Doesn’t this city ever have any warm days?” Seth grumbled in their native tongue. “Or are they perpetually stuck in winter this far north?”

“It’s not _that_ cold,” Fifika countered. She glanced over at him, water dripping from her hood only to land on her mare’s back. “And if it were perpetually winter, don’t you think there would be snow on the ground?” A small laugh left her mouth.

Turning, he gestured at the top of the Lonely Mountain; though they were nearly ten miles south of it, it still loomed above them like a giant. “Behold! Snow!” he said, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Almost all mountains are capped by snow, Seth,” Rán retorted, his brow rising. “Even the mountains to the south of the Sea of Rhûn are snowcapped.”

“My point is,” Seth huffed, “that this place is _cold_. We’ve been here—what, nearly two months already? Or is it closer to three?—and even on the sunny days, it’s barely warm enough to be without our cloaks.”

Rán shook his head, chuckling. “You’ll get used to it soon. It takes time to acclimatize to new places.” He was beginning to wonder if he should have paired Seth with Aizik; the half-elf was his best friend and sibling-in-law, after all.

Seth muttered under his breath and slouched forward in the saddle.

Fifika couldn’t help but snort at his behavior. “Cheer up,” she told him. “At least it rains more than three times a year up here. We’ll never have to worry about a drought again.”

He nodded in acquiesce and sighed. “That is true…being out on an assignment during a drought was always horrible, especially when we weren’t following any rivers.”

“Another good thing is I doubt the summers up here aren’t half as hot,” Rán added. “We might actually go a summer without getting sunburned for once.”

“Now _that_ I doubt,” Fifika laughed. “Just because we’re further north doesn’t mean the summer sun is going to be any less forgiving if we’re walking around in just our tunics or tunics and undershirts.” Reaching up, she pulled her hood back just a little bit, allowing her to see the road ahead a bit better. “Especially if you’re going to keep parading around in your sleeveless one to show off to Lady Baylee.”

Rán felt his cheeks grow warm and, though Seth and Fifika couldn’t see it, he cocked his brow. “As I said before, it doesn’t hurt to give her a glimpse at what could be hers.” His brows then furrowed as, far ahead of them, he could see a pair of moving objects. He brought Galal to a halt at the same time he raised his fist, signaling to the others to stop.

“What is it?” Fifika asked, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

“Look ahead of us,” he answered. “About half a mile to the southeast; in the gully.” He pointed off into the distance, near where the road started to dip downhill.

Squinting slightly, Seth and Fifika nodded in unison. “It looks like two bears,” the former stated. “Perhaps young ones, just separated from their mother.”

“Or a male pursuing a female,” Fifika said with a small nod.

Rán’s eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to watch the pair. “I don’t think so…while both look to be about the right shape and size, their backsides aren’t quite right for a bear.” Bringing Galal around, he looked at them. “And why would bears be this far from the forest? There isn’t much for them to hunt out here.”

Seth looked past their leader, watching the shapes. “…Look at how they’re moving. It almost looks as if they were pacing.”

“We definitely need to get a better look at them, then,” Fifika sighed. “If Aizik were here, they could tell us what we were seeing…”

“Hard to say. They _are_ only half elf, after all; their sight is good, yes, but not nearly as good as a full-blooded elf.” Rán turned Galal once more. “Fifika, I want you to approach from the west; Seth, from the north. I’ll go in from the east and try to get as close as I can. Do _not_ let yourselves be seen, but if you do run into trouble, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Fifika and Seth chorused.

Rán spurred Galal forward, steering him to the southeast. As he rode, he did his best to pick a path that would keep him from being noticed by the creatures, though he knew that, eventually, he would need to go in on foot. He just hoped that the creatures weren’t what he suspected they were.

‘Or, if they are wargs, I hope they don’t belong to those raiders,’ he thought. ‘I do know that untamed wargs will travel to far-off, unfamiliar places in their hunt for food…With Oromë’s luck, that’s all they’ll be.’ Despite this, something in his stomach told him that this wasn’t the case.

He had Galal go at a trot, not wanting the sound of his hooves at a canter or gallop to draw attention to them. When he had ridden fifteen minutes directly east, he turned his steed towards the south and rode for another ten minutes. Then, bringing Galal to a stop, he dismounted.

“Stay here,” he quietly ordered, patting the side of the stallion’s neck. “I’ll whistle if I need you, alright?” A small smile came to his lips when Galal pressed his nose against his cheek. Patting him one more time for luck, he turned and started to make for the spot where he had seen the creatures.

As he drew closer, he could hear quiet snarls and growls coming from behind one of the large rock formations. He knew he couldn’t entirely trust his ears, though; sound bounced off the rocks, becoming distorted and altered. Reaching the edge of the formation, he pressed himself against it as best he could before carefully peering around the corner. He saw no one, but he did see that the distance between this first formation and the next was nearly fifty yards.

Sprinting his way across the gap, he glanced around for any sign of Seth and Fifika. When he saw none, he felt relieved—it meant they were doing their job well.

‘I’m both thankful for this terrain and unthankful for it at the same time,’ he thought, reaching the rock wall. ‘While it affords us plenty of cover, it also makes it difficult to know just how far away our targets are.’

The growls had gotten much louder by this point and he could also hear voices. What they were saying was indiscernible, though. Quietly as he could, he drew his sword from its sheath and started to make his way towards the far edge of the rocks. As he walked, he kept his cloak wrapped around his body, both to keep himself from getting too wet and to hide the blade.

Once more, he pressed himself against the rock wall and peeked around the corner. This time, however, he was in luck: He could see a pair of wargs pacing in circles around a trio of people. He couldn’t make out what two of them looked like due to them being covered by heavy cloaks, but the third was very obviously an orc. It wore no cloak and what little it wore in the way of armor and clothing was ragged and rusting.

What worried him, though, was the size of the wargs. They were almost thrice the size of any warg he had seen before.

‘That explains why they looked like they were the size of bears—because they _are_ the size of bears,’ he thought, frowning.

Glancing around the area, he looked for a way to get closer to them. About ten yards from the group, he could see that there was a large boulder; it would provide ample cover should he manage to get to it without being seen. That in and of itself was a major risk due to there being no cover between here and there.

‘I’ll have to risk it,’ he told himself. ‘If those three are part of the raiding party, I _need_ to hear what they’re saying. Oromë, please grant me luck in this.’

Crouching as low as he could while still having enough mobility to walk, he moved forward. He kept his eye on the two wargs, watching as they continued their pacing. Oromë must have heard his plea, because after a tense five-minute span, he was behind the boulder.

He knelt on the muddy ground and, pulling his hood back slightly, started to listen in on the conversation. A small frown came to his lips as he realized that, though he was much closer to the group now, he could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

“…An’ you promise t’ deliver…Can we trust…” The first voice most certainly belonged to a male, but whether he was elf or human, let alone his age were nearly impossible to tell.

“A…never go back on word…” This second one, though deep, belonged to a woman. He recognized her accent as being one from the area around Dorwinion. “…Meeting place will being…Understand, yes? Good…not be failing me…”

The third voice belonged to the orc and, unlike the other two, it sounded impatient. “In agreement, yes, yes…To leave _now_. Thunder is fast…”

‘They must be planning their next attack,’ he thought, his eyes narrowed. ‘That male has the same accent as the natives of Dale. He must be some sort of informant—we’ll need to try to bring him in somehow.’ Cautiously, he crawled forward a bit and risked stealing a look at the group of conspirators.

But while luck had been on his side earlier, it wasn’t on his side now.

One of the wargs had sat down near the trio and had been facing east. It was sniffing the air with interest when it spotted the tiny bit of Rán’s head that had poked out from the boulder. Jumping back to its feet, it snarled and started to bark at the rock.

Rán’s eyes shot open; he knew he was caught. His heart racing, he moved away from the boulder and brought his sword out from under his cloak. He spun around in time to see the warg leaping at him and, with little choice, he threw himself out of the way.

A grunt left his mouth as he hit the ground, hard. Lifting his head, he could see the warg landing a few yards away before turning around. He started to push himself to his feet, hearing yelling behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the second warg racing towards him. Like the first, it jumped at him.

This time, as Rán dropped to the ground, he thrust his sword upwards as the warg soared over him. Though his blade pierced the creature’s hide, it quickly became caught on a bit of bone and Rán was yanked forward when the warg’s momentum made it tumble forward. The force was enough to send the ranger flying; he swore in pain as he slammed into the ground.

Someone whistled and he heard the thumping of the other warg rush past, ignoring him completely. Getting to his feet, Rán kept his focus on the second warg. It still had his sword sticking out of its chest, blood rolling down the blade and dripping off of the handle. The wound, it seemed, was not immediately mortal.

Pulling a knife from his vambrace, he sidestepped as the warg charged at him. It was the ranger who jumped this time around, grabbing onto the warg’s fur and hauling himself onto its back. He tried to wrap his arm around to cut its throat, but the creature’s neck was too thick. Instead, he plunged the knife into its flesh and yanked backwards.

There was a spray of blood and the warg stumbled forward, tripping over its own paws. Rán threw himself off of the animal before it could flip over on itself and he rolled a few yards. Before he could get to his feet, however, he cried out in pain; the first warg, now with two riders on its back, had raced over.

It grabbed him in its massive mouth and shook him violently. Then, with little care, it threw him aside and galloped off, not bothering to stay and watch the ranger as he slammed into the top of the boulder and roll off the other side.

Pain filled Rán’s whole body, but it was worst on his right side—specifically, his shoulder and arm. There was a combination of sharp, stinging pain and dull, throbbing aches. Trying as hard as he could, he forced himself upright. He leaned back against the boulder while holding his right arm to his chest, his fist clenched tight. A soft hiss of pain left his mouth and he scrunched his eyes shut.

‘I need to see how bad my wounds are,’ he told himself. ‘I _need_ to tend to them…warg bites are nasty…they’ll get infected if I don’t clean them soon…’ But try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes to look.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there when he finally heard Fifika and Seth coming towards him.

“Rán! Oh, gods, Rán, please be alive!” Fifika’s voice was filled with fear.

“Can you hear us?” Seth hurriedly asked. He practically threw himself onto his knees, already unpinning Rán’s cloak.

“I’m alive and I can hear you,” Rán grunted in reply. Finally mustering the willpower to open his eyes, he found that Fifika’s face was much paler than normal. “I’ll be fine, ‘Ika,” he assured her, a weak smile on his lips.

“Not unless we get you to a healer _fast_.” As Seth spoke, he carefully pulled Rán’s cloak out from under him before folding it lengthwise a few times. “You’ve got large lacerations on your chest and arm, as well as lots of puncture marks from the warg’s teeth.” Once folded, he wrapped the cloak around Rán’s torso in such a way that it would keep his arm pinned to his chest while also applying enough pressure to some of the lacerations to stop them from bleeding. “You’ll ride with me so I can keep an eye on these injuries.”

Rán nodded, swallowing hard. “’Ika…you need to—to search the other warg,” he commanded. “There has to be some clue about the raiders on it…”

“Y-yes, sir.” She looked at Seth. “I’ll help you get him onto Dalka.”

* * *

There was a look of terror on Ashailyn’s face as she burst through the door of Rán’s room. “How is he?” she demanded, pushing her way past Girish and Hunil to her brother’s bedside. When she reached the foot of Rán’s bed, she found him sitting up and talking. A good portion of his torso was covered in bandages and he had some dark bruises on his face.

“I’m fine, Ashailyn,” he reassured her, a tired smile on his lips. Though his voice sounded a bit weak, the color of his skin was good; he hadn’t lost too much blood. “Thanks to Seth and Lord Braddock, I’m going to make a full recovery.”

Seth, who was sitting on a stool beside the bed, nodded. “He’ll have to stay in bed for a few days, though. And then, after that, he will have to take it easy. No patrols, no sparring, no doing anything strenuous.”

A sigh of relief left her mouth and Ashailyn sat down on the edge of the bed. “When Aizik told me what happened, I feared the worst. _Two_ wargs, Rán?!”

His brow rose. “You act as if I had meant to get attacked,” he said, his voice dry. He then shook his head. “If they had been wargs of a normal size, I would have been victorious. But these two? They were the size of bears.” He cursed as his sister suddenly reached over and thwacked him upside the head, which made the others start to laugh.

“Don’t tell me that!” she scolded. “That’ll just make me worry more and you know it!”

Rubbing his head, Rán wore a small pout. “One of them is dead,” he told her. “The other…is probably tens of miles from here by now. You don’t need to worry about one of them finding me again.”

“There are more pressing matters to discuss anyway.” Nakara came into the room and walked over to the bed. “I went through the bags Fifika retrieved from the dead warg. For the most part, there was nothing that could be of use—just food rations, a water skin, some clothes, and jewelry. But…” He held out a sheathed sword to Rán, holding it so the hilt faced their leader. “Look at this blade.”

Rán’s brow rose and, grabbing the hilt, he drew the sword. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a standard kopis—and one that hadn’t been very well cared for, either, judging by the dents along the cutting edge and the spots of rust. But as he looked closer, he found runes engraved down the length of the blade. They weren’t just any type of rune, however.

“These are dwarf runes,” he stated, looking up at Nakara with a frown. He started to curse the fact that his mother hadn’t had time to teach him how to read runes before she died.

Nakara nodded. “I had Master Ori translate them for me.” He pulled a rolled-up sheet of paper from his belt and, letting the sheath fall onto the bed, he unfurled the paper. “It says, ‘Please seek me out, a captive among thieves. I am in the place where the sea meets the twin peaks.’”

“…Now that’s very interesting,” Girish said, his brow cock. “A dwarven smith held captive among raiders _and_ who was smart enough to leave a message in their handiwork.”

The others nodded in agreement. “They even gave us a hint as to their location,” Seth added. “I wish it was a bit more clear, but it’s a good start.”

“‘…Where the sea meets the twin peaks’,” Ashailyn murmured, a contemplative look on her face. “The only place I can think of is along the southwestern shores of the Sea of Rhûn.”

“But we’ve looked along those shores and foothills hundreds of times,” Nakara countered. “The queen sent half her army to scour that area and nothing was ever found.”

“Can we even trust that this blade actually came from this far inland?” Hunil put forth. “Five or six hundred miles to the northeast are the northern seas.”

Rán shook his head. “No. It wouldn’t have come from there,” he said. “Why would raiders who have the prosperous city-states of Loten, Kykurien Kyn, and Desdursyton so close at hand, be this far west?” He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh; he was doing his best to not let his exhaustion show. “And you said this was the only thing of interest, Nakara?”

“I’m afraid so.” Picking up the sword, he sheathed it again. “Would you like to keep it in here, or shall I keep it among my things?”

“Leave it here. When I’m able to walk, I’ll need to take it to King Bard and give him a briefing of what I overheard.”

The others looked surprised. “You were able to overhear something?” Nakara questioned.

“Yes. There were three of them, a male, a female, and an orc. The female was from somewhere near Dorwinion, but I couldn’t place _where_ exactly. The orc was your run-of-the-mill scum and the male was, most definitely, from Dale or Laketown. I could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but it sounded like they were making some sort of deal.” Lifting his hand, he ran them back through his auburn waves. “The orc and female were going to deliver something to the male; they have a meeting place, but _where_ that place is, I didn’t hear. “

“That’s fine,” Ashailyn told him, concern back on her face. Like the others, she could tell her brother was trying to hide his exhaustion from them. “Today we got more information on these raiders than we have in the last four years. And now our main concern is letting you rest so you can heal.”

His brow rose. “I’m in bed, am I not? Therefore, I’m resting.”

Seth shook his head and stood up, chuckling. “He’s being stubborn about staying in bed. Time for us to leave.”

“W-we’re not done discussing this!” Rán countered, frowning. He watched as the men started to leave the room. “Come back here!”

Ashailyn laughed, her brow rising at her brother’s stubbornness. “Nakara, could you have Lady Wenna or Lady Primrose bring a pot of tea up here? Mint, if they have it.”

Nakara nodded before he and the others left, leaving the siblings alone in the room. A sigh passed Ashailyn’s lips as she closed her eyes and tiredly rubbed her face. Rán tilted his head back against the headboard, also sighing.

“Funny how we’ve been searching for these raiders for years and it’s only when we’re no longer in service to Dorwinion that we finally get an important clue as to their whereabouts,” Ashailyn said after a few minutes. Opening her eyes again, she looked over at her brother, seeing that there was still a small frown on his lips. “Perhaps this is a good thing? If King Bard grants us permission, we could go looking for their hideout. We could finally be rid of those scoundrels!”

Rán lightly shook his head. “As much as I wish that to be the case, we won’t be the ones who find the hideout,” he told her. “The most we’ll be able to do is pass along this information to the Queen. You know as well as I that, after they killed her son, she wants to be the one to lead the attack.”

“That is true,” she said, nodding in acquiesce. “And…to be fair, Dorwinion is no longer our concern. King Bard is our ruler now.”

He nodded slowly in agreement. “Yes, he is…I must admit, I like it here more than I ever liked being in Dorwinion.” Seeing a mischievous grin come to his sister’s lips, he quickly added, “And _not_ just because of Lady Baylee. King Bard is far more benevolent towards us than Queen Muna and the weather is far more agreeable.”

“Hmm…Yes, I’ll agree with you on that,” she said. “But, while the food is good, I miss the spices of Dorwinion. The food here isn’t bland by any means, but I miss some of flavors.”

“I wonder if Lady Galiene would find it offensive if we gifted her a cook book and some spices from Dorwinion? She already uses some in her cooking…”

“For that, you’d need to ask one of the Braddocks or Lady Wenna. The last thing we’d need is to accidentally insult their cook.” She let out a heavy sigh, her eyes falling to the bandages around her brother’s chest and bicep. Though she couldn’t see the wounds they covered, the blood that stained them told her that he had severely downplayed the severity of his injuries. “Seth said that Lord Braddock assisted in tending to your wounds.”

Rán nodded. “He did. With how easily it is for warg bites to get infected, he brought us an herb that’s good for cleaning wounds—among many other uses, apparently. It’s called athelas. Lady Baylee told me about it once; it’s an ancient herb that was brought to Middle Earth by a people called the Númenóreans.”

Ashailyn’s brow rose. “An odd topic for you and your ladylove to discuss. I would expect you to try wooing her with tales of your many adventures and near misses.” She grinned as her brother’s cheeks became flushed.

“She’s not my ladylove…not _yet_ , at least. But we do enjoy talking about a variety of different subjects.” He reached up and ran his good hand through his hair. “And that includes the histories of some of Middle Earth’s peoples.” His cheeks grew a bit darker. “Though, I have told her a tale or two of our adventures.”

“Did you make sure to exaggerate your roles in them so that you were the greatest hero?”

He frowned. “Of course not! I made sure to tell her about everyone’s roles in the adventures. She was quite fond of hearing about how you and Kreine had to save Nakara, Girish, and me from that band of scouting Easterlings.”

Her brow rose in surprise. “You told her that one? I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Just because I wanted to impress her doesn’t mean I was going to hog the glory. The rest of you deserve it just as much as me. In many cases, more so.” He looked at the door as there was a knock. “Come in,” he called, speaking in Westron once more.

The door opened and Wenna came in, bearing a tray with a teapot, two mugs, a small plate of scones, and a bowl of clotted cream. When she saw the confused look on their faces, she said, “Nakara asked that I bring the two o’ you some scones t’ tide you over until dinner,” she explained. Her eyes glanced over at Rán only to widen as she saw the bloodied bandages. “Oh dear…Mr. Braddock said you were hurt, but he didn’t say _how_ hurt you were…”

Rán gave her a reassuring smile. “These bandages are deceiving; they make my wounds look worse than they truly are,” he assured her. “Thank you for the tea and scones, by the way. It is most appreciated.”

“If you’re in need of anything else, my lord and lady, just holler,” the lass said, giving them a friendly smile. She turned to leave, but when she reached the doorway, Rán spoke up.

“Oh—one quick thing, Lady Wenna,” he said. “Has Lady Baylee returned from Erebor yet?”

As she shook her head, Wenna’s curls bounced about her neck and shoulders. “No, not yet. Would you like me t’ let you know when she does?” There was a bit of a knowing smile on her lips.

“No, thank you. I was merely curious is all.” He watched as she nodded and left the room; he then blinked as Ashailyn forced a mug of tea into his hand.

“Don’t you worry about your ladylove,” she told him. “When she hears that you were attacked and wounded, she’ll come racing up here.” A teasing grin then appeared on her lips. “She may even _kiss_ you.”

“That I doubt,” he grumbled before taking a small sip of his tea. “She doesn’t seem to be the type who kisses first.”

“Hmm…I’ll have to agree with you on that. But that doesn’t mean _you_ won’t be able to sneak a little kiss in.”

His lips pursed in a small pout, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he took another sip of tea. Though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, the thought of stealing a kiss from Baylee was quite a nice one…


	18. Chapter 18

Half an hour later found Bofur and Baylee leaving the crafting district. With a bit of help from Bofur, Baylee and Cynyr agreed on a design that would take one of the existing spears and modify it for her. However, the modifications would take all day to complete, so she would have to either come back tomorrow or have it delivered.

“Oh, it is _so_ nice to be away from all those hammering sounds,” she sighed in relief. “It was startin’ t’ feel like there was a tiny hammer in my ears, just goin’ crazy.”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, lass. I guess I should have brought some waxed fiber t’ put in our ears. That would’ve helped a lot.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m sure neither o’ us expected t’ be there as long as we were.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand; once again, the two of them had held hands as they made their way back from the smithing district. Though it seemed neither was _quite_ ready to unclasp the other’s hand just yet. “Well, with that done an’ over with, where will you be takin’ me next?” There was excitement in her voice, which only made Bofur’s chest fill with warmth again.

“I was thinkin’ the market. That way, you could, hopefully, get some ideas for a present for Will.” He glanced over at her, smiling. “Unless, o’ course, you were startin’ to feel hungry. If that were the case, we could head over t’ the Ur mansion.”

Baylee thought for a moment. She _was_ starting to feel a bit peckish, which she knew would soon turn into outright hunger. “Hmm…I am startin’ to feel a little bit hungry,” she admitted. “So maybe lunch first?”

He let out a small laugh. “If I’m bein’ honest, I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve been feelin’ mighty hungry ever since we arrived.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, you silly dwarf?” she laughed. “I would have happily gone t’ get food before goin’ t’ get the spear!”

There was an innocent smile on his lips as he shrugged. “The whole reason we’re here is for that spear,” he told her. “I figured it’d be best t’ get that out o’ the way. Anyway, it’s not like I’m starvin’—I’m just eager t’ eat some o’ that soda bread, even if it means fightin’ the wee badgers t’ get a piece.”

She snorted. “If you’d like, I could balance the basket on my head—they won’t be able t’ reach it there.”

He let out a hearty laugh, his brow rising. “Sadly, lass, you’re wrong about that. Sanna, the second youngest, is a bit o’ a climber. She’ll find whoever’s tallest in the room an’ climb up them like a squirrel does a tree.” His smile suddenly faded a little bit.

“Is somethin’ wrong?” she asked, concern coming to her features.

“Oh, no, no—I just remembered that Buruz, Grid, an’ Sanna aren’t exactly fluent in Westron yet,” he explained. “They understand it well enough—well, Buruz an’ Grid do—but speakin’ it is still hard for them, since they’re young yet. But that shouldn’t be much o’ a problem, since you know Iglishmêk.” He looked over at her, a mischievous grin now coming to his lips. “Come t’ think o’ it, you’re going t’ be the first human they’ve ever met.”

Her head tilted in curiosity. “Really?”

“Mhm. An’ they’re goin’ t’ be mighty surprised t’ find out you know Iglishmêk. As far as they know, it’s like Khuzdul: Meant only for us dwarves t’ use.”

“I didn’t know Khuzdul was meant t’ be spoken only by dwarves.”

He nodded. “Aye. Mahal crafted it for our tongues an’ our tongues alone. Iglishmêk, however, can be used by anyone, though it’s mostly used by us.” He brushed one of his braids over his shoulder. “But, aye. You’ll be the first human those three have met. Baraz, Berez, Biriz, and Boroz, though, have all met humans. But being that it’s the middle o’ the day, I don’t think most o’ the badgers will home. They’d be off at their lessons. Buruz, Grid, an’ Sanna will probably be the only three you get t’ meet today.”

“What age do lessons start for dwarves?” she questioned. By now, Bofur was leading her down a quieter side street; there were less dwarves here and most of the ones they did see were young children playing about.

“Ten. Buruz is only nine, Grid’s seven, an’ Sanna’s five, so it’ll be a while yet before they get t’ know the joy o’ sittin’ through lessons.” He quietly laughed, shaking his head. “An’ aye, Sanna’s a climber. So, I apologize in advance for when she warms up t’ you an’ starts climbin’ all over you.”

She quietly giggled. “It’s alright. Bain was a climber when he was a wee thing, too. Though, I was just the steppin’ stool for him t’ get onto Will or papa’s shoulders.”

Bofur snorted, his brow rising. “That’s not hard t’ believe,” he chuckled. “Them bein’ giants and all.” Still laughing, he glanced down at their hands. his cheeks turned a bit pink when he realized that he was still holding onto hers; being that she hadn’t tried to pull her hand away yet, though, he said nothing. “T’ be honest, I don’t know if they’d be able t’ stand upright if ever they visited the Ur mansion. It’s got tall ceilings, aye, but I’m not sure they’re _that_ tall.”

“I’m sure if ever they visited, they wouldn’t mind havin’ to lean over a wee bit,” she assured him with a laugh. “It’s the doorways they’re goin’ t’ have to be careful around!”

“Aye, that’s true,” he grinned. “They’re a wee bit lower than those beams in your cellar, that’s for certain, an’ we know what Will’s record with those is.”

Silence then fell between them—not an awkward or tense silence, but a content one. Bofur would occasionally steal a peek at Baylee to find her looking around, wonder on her features. Aside from the initial awe of first seeing the enormity of one of their cities, he had never seen a human so interested in a dwarven city. Nor had he ever met a human who was so interested in dwarvish culture; but given how her father was apprenticed to a dwarf and a half dwarf cared for her in her youth, he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised.

‘She’s practically a dwarf by association,’ he thought with a small chuckle.

Soon enough, the pair was stepping through the door of the Ur mansion only to be greeted by the smell of something delicious cooking. At this point, Bofur let go of her hand so that they could remove their cloaks and hang them up on the hooks beside the door.

“Anyone home?” he called out. “Sure smells like it!”

“Bofur!” they heard a deep, feminine voice reply. At the end of the hall, Baylee watched as a lovely, auburn-haired dwarrow dame stepped in from another room. The dame’s eyes widened in surprise, but a pleasant smile came to her lips and she started to walk towards them. “Oh! I see you’ve brought a guest!” When she was close enough, Bofur walked forward and gave her a big hug. Then, as he stepped away, Gerdi put her hands on her hips and looked Baylee over. “Judging by your lack of beard and lack of height, you’re the lass Bifur an’ Bofur have been telling us about.”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink, but Baylee smiled and curtseyed. “Baylee Braddock, at your service,” she said. Then, holding the basket out, she added, “An’ I’ve brought your family some soda bread.”

“Oh, thank you!” A broad grin came to her lips as she took the basket and, moving the cloth aside, inspected the contents. “I was only able to get _one_ piece of the fruit bread Bofur brought us last time, so you can bet that I’ll be takin’ advantage o’ most everyone bein’ out or asleep right now.”

“Ahh, Grid, Sanna, an’ Buruz are down for their naps, then?” Bofur chuckled.

She nodded. “Yes. They went down just twenty minutes ago, so it’ll be a while before they wake. Which is perfect, since it means Sanna won’t be crawlin’ all over you.”

“Bofur made sure to warn me about that,” Baylee told her. “An’ I told him it was fine; my own nephew was a wee bit o’ a climber when he was her age.” She found it hard to not stare at all the jewelry Gerdi wore; she was certain there had to have been at least twenty pounds worth of gold and gems strewn around her neck, around her wrists, and in her hair. “They just like t’ feel tall at that age, I suppose.”

Gerdi laughed and nodded in agreement. “Ah, yes, that’s so true…have you two eaten by the way?”

“That’s actually why we’re here,” Bofur admitted with a cheeky grin. “I knew you an’ Bombur would have somethin’ tasty simmerin’ away, so I offered t’ introduce Baylee here t’ both you an’ your wonderful cooking.”

“Well, then, right this way, you two!” Still smiling, she turned and started back down the hallway. As she turned, the two could see she had a child strapped to her back—Edda. She had a mass of gingery curls atop her head with gingery fuzz on the edges of her cheeks and her brown eyes were wide as she watched the world around her.

“Ooh, now isn’t she just adorable?” Baylee cooed.

“Aye, isn’t she?” Bofur agreed. “She’s got her mum’s eyes an’ nose an’ her dad’s hair an’ chubby cheeks.”

At that, Gerdi snorted. “Bofur!” She looked over her shoulder at him. “She’s a healthy dwarven child—o’ course she’s going to have chubby cheeks!” Shaking her head, she led the two to the end of the hall, where she turned left into the kitchen.

Baylee’s eyes widened slightly; this kitchen was even bigger than the Tankard’s! There was an enormous fireplace to their left, but in place of the cooking hearth she was used to seeing, there was an enormous iron box. Its top was flat with, from what she could see, removable disks dotted across it. On its front, there were three doors: At either end, the doors were solid and she recognized them to be smaller versions of the large oven door she was used to. In the center of the contraption was the third door, this one grated with a coal fire burning away behind it. What also took her by surprise was, directly across from the thing was an enormous window.

Bofur lightly nudged her, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Feelin’ a bit envious, lass?” he teased.

“Wh-what is that?” she questioned, her head tilting.

“Hm? It’s a coal stove,” he explained. Then, remembering that humans didn’t have stoves like dwarves and hobbits, he chuckled. “Ah, that’s right, humans don’t really have these.”

Gerdi glanced over at them. “You’ve never seen a coal stove before? That’s a shame! They’re wonderous things, really. Not only can you use your pots and pans on them, but you can bake an’ roast things at the same time!”

“How does it work?” Baylee questioned, letting Bofur lead her over to it so she could get a better look.

“You’ve got a central fire here in the middle,” Bofur began, “that’s usually made o’ coal or wood; we prefer coal, since it’s so abundant here. The back o’ the stove is connected t’ a chimney that, like a normal chimney, helps the airflow an’ keeps it safe t’ use—you need good ventilation with these things, since burnin’ coal can be deadly without it. Anyway, the fire heats up the air inside the stove an’ it circulates around an’ around, maintainin’ a relatively steady temperature with help from the chimney’s flue.

“On top here, you’ve got these things call hot plates. Like their name suggests, they’re hot—even though the whole top is hot, really. But you put your pans an’ pots on these for cookin’. The hottest ones are in the middle while the coolest ones are on the sides. If you want t’ heat things up quicker, you can use this hook here—” he pointed at a hook that hung on the wall, “—to lift the plate up an’ put the pot or pan directly over the heat.”

She nodded slowly as she listened to him, watching as he pointed out the various parts and demonstrated how the air current moved around inside the thing. “What Galiene, auntie, an’ me wouldn’t give t’ have one o’ these back at the Tankard…” she murmured, making the two dwarves laugh.

“If your chimney is sturdy enough,” Gerdi said as she walked over to them with two bowls in hand, “then it shouldn’t be much o’ a problem commissioning one—if your father allows it, o’ course.” Setting one bowl down, she used a ladle to begin filling the other with a white soup. “There are a few downsides to it, of course, with the main one bein’ that it’s hot. You have t’ be careful around it, lest you accidentally burn yourself. An’ Bofur’s already told you the downside t’ using coal if your ventilation is poor. Bofur, be a sweetheart an’ get some drinks for you an’ the lass?”

He nodded, moving to go grab some mugs. “What would you like, lass? We’ve got all the same drinks as the Tankard.”

Finding it a bit odd and humorous that _she_ was the one being served for once, she replied with, “Cider, please. What kind o’ soup is this?”

“Sausage soup,” Gerdi answered, handing her the now-full bowl. “It’s got spicy sausage, bacon, onion, potatoes, kale, chicken stock, an’ cream in it. Along with seasonings, o’ course.”

“It smells an’ sounds delicious! I don’t think I’ve ever had a pale soup that had sausage as an ingredient.” She watched as dwarrow dame pulled a spoon from her apron and put it into the bowl.

“Oh, then you’re missin’ out,” Gerdi chuckled. “It’s surprising how much flavor sausage can bring t’ a milder broth—especially if you’ve got a spicy type o’ sausage.” Her brow rose as she heard Bofur snort loudly. “Bofur, I know you’re _not_ having dirty thoughts back there,” she said, her tone was a bit on the scolding side.

“Me? Havin’ dirty thoughts? Why Gerdi, I didn’t know you thought so lowly o’ me!” Bofur proclaimed, wearing a cheeky grin. He laughed, fending off a dishtowel as Gerdi started to playfully smack him with it.

Baylee quietly giggled as she made her way over to the table, which was under the massive window. Though she knew she was in a dwarf’s home, she couldn’t help but find it odd that the table and chairs fit her height. Normally, her feet would be dangling an inch or two off the ground or the table would be sitting more level with her lower chest than her mid-stomach. Even better was that, as she turned to look out of the window, she didn’t have to sit up straighter in order to get the best view.

Gathering up a spoonful of the soup, she lightly blew on it so that it wouldn’t scald her mouth. As she did such, Bofur walked over, their drinks in one hand and his bowl in the other. He set her cider next to her bowl and she thanked him before popping the spoon into her mouth.

Gerdi came over and sat down beside Bofur; both saw that she had brought Edda out of the wrap and the child was now resting against her shoulder. She had moved the wrap so that it covered her shoulder and a good portion of her many necklaces, not wanting any of the gold to accidentally pinch her daughter’s cheeks or fingers. “Judging by how dry the two of you are, I take it you got here before the rain started?”

Baylee nodded. “Aye. It got here while we were stabling our steeds,” she answered before taking another bite of the soup. It was both creamy and spicy, a combination she wasn’t used to, but was quickly coming to enjoy.

“We’re hopin’ it lightens up a bit before we leave,” Bofur added. “Which won’t be for a few hours yet, since I plan on showin’ her around a bit more.”

“Hmm…I hope it lightens up, too, though, from what I can see, that’s not very likely,” Gerdi said. “I hope Thorin an’ Fili didn’t get caught out in it.”

“What were they doin’ out o’ the mountain?” Bofur asked. He took a drink of his ale and looked out of the window; though it looked east, he could see a bit of the sky to the south. Just the sight of the rainstorm made him feel cold.

“They had to go to Ravenhill,” she answered. A small smile came to her lips as she watched her brother-in-law reach over and tickle Edda’s cheek. “Roäc finally passed on, so they went to renew the Old Treaties with his daughter, Arcah.”

“A shame, that. Roäc was a friendly bugger despite his old age,” Bofur said with a small frown. Seeing the look of confusion on Baylee’s face, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Roäc was the leader o’ the ravens at Ravenhill,” he explained. “They act as messengers for the royal family.”

She nodded in understanding. “That makes sense,” she chuckled. Then, looking at Gerdi, she said, “This soup is _delicious_ , by the way! I’ve never tasted anythin’ like it.”

A proud smile came to Gerdi’s lips. “I’m glad you enjoy it, dear,” she chirped. “It’s one I always like t’ make on rainy days like this. It warms both the body an’ the soul while filling the stomach.”

“It most certainly does,” the human heartily agreed before eating more of it.

Shifting Edda around slightly so that she now cradled the child in the crook of her arm, Gerdi glanced at Bofur again. “How is yours an’ Bifur’s shop coming along?”

He hurriedly finished chewing a bit of sausage and potato so he could answer her. “It’s comin’ along real well! Almost all o’ the renovation work is done on the building itself thanks to Baylee’s brother an’ all his craftsmen friends. We’re just waitin’ on the nice wood t’ arrive so he can get started on buildin’ the furniture. Oh, an’ the glass an’ metal bits for the new window we’re puttin’ in.”

“I hope that tarp you’ve got coverin’ the hole is able t’ hold back this weather,” Baylee commented.

He nodded in agreement. “Aye. But, if it’s not, Bifur an’ Will are there t’ do something about it, at least.” Once more, he reached over to tickle Edda, this time going for her little foot. “But aye, it’s going well. My guess is in another two weeks or so, dependin’ on how fast Will is at makin’ the shelves an’ tables.” A grin came to his lips as Edda made a noise and started to kick her feet.

“I know humans can be pretty fast when it comes to working with wood; almost as fast as dwarves with metal,” Gerdi chuckled, her brow rising as she looked down at the squirming child.

“It might take him a little longer at first, as it’s been a few years since he’s made furniture as opposed t’ repairin’ it,” Baylee said, “but I remember him being able t’ get basic tables made in about a day. Basic chairs, he can get three or four in a day…We don’t really have display shelves like the shop’s going t’ have, so I’m not sure how long those would take him, but I’d guess around day for those, too. Maybe half a day if they’re short.”

“Oh, that’s a lot faster than I was expectin’!” Bofur laughed. “I was thinkin’ it’d take him a few days for a set o’ shelves or a table!” As he looked back at her, Gerdi noticed how his expression had softened a bit.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Baylee reached for her tankard. “Ah, don’t worry. Most people think that. But if the woodworker has sharp chisels, a good lathe, an’ brains, they can whip furniture out real fast. If you’re wantin’ something more ornate, though, like the banquet tables at the Tankard, then you’re talking at _least_ three days, but that’s because he comes up with custom designs for them as well as carves details into them.”

“Ahh…Well, I don’t think Bifur an’ me are needin’ any carved details, so there will be some time saved.” He popped a spoonful of soup into his mouth, savoring the mixture of its flavor and its heat. Looking out of the window again, he could see even darker clouds peeking out from behind one of the mountain’s arms; he started to wonder if they’d be forced to stay the night in Erebor. ‘We’ve plenty of guest rooms if that’s the case,’ he thought.

The trio fell silent for a while, Gerdi staying quiet in order to let Bofur and Baylee eat. She knew how pleasant it could be to just enjoy a meal without needing to speak—it was such a rare thing in the Ur mansion, though, she didn’t get to experience it much anymore. But when she saw that their bowls were nearly empty, she spoke again.

“Would either o’ you like seconds?” she asked, starting to stand up.

“Oh, aye—an’ thirds an’ fourths,” Bofur grinned. “I’ll trade you, bowl for baby.” All too happily, he reached up and carefully took his niece from Gerdi’s arms. “Hello there, my littlest badger,” he cooed.

Gerdi laughed and lightly shook her head. “What about you, dear? Would you like seconds?” she asked Baylee.

“Oh, no thank you,” she replied. “As delicious as it is, I’m not sure my stomach could handle much more.”

“She’s got a tiny human stomach,” Bofur lightly teased. “Come t’ think o’ it, I think that’s the most food I’ve seen you eat in one sitting, lass.” He grinned as a playful pout came to her lips.

She cocked her brow, handing her bowl over to Gerdi while thanking her. “You don’t see me constantly snackin’ throughout the day whenever I’m fetchin’ orders,” she told him with a small laugh.

“Aye, I’ll admit that that’s true,” he chuckled, admitting defeat. Carefully adjusting Edda, he rested his elbows on the table while holding the child on his forearms. Edda looked up at him, her eyes still wide as she tried to focus on his unfamiliar face. “You have the biggest eyes o’ any bairn I’ve ever seen,” he cooed, his voice surprisingly soft. “Bet it doesn’t help you’re wonderin’ who this stranger is that’s holdin’ you, does it?”

Edda grunted, her little hands curled into fists as she fidgeted slightly. Being only a few weeks old, she didn’t really have much control over her limbs. Bofur leaned over, nuzzling his nose against her chubby cheek; she squirmed a bit more and nearly went cross-eyed as she attempted to focus on him.

A soft smile came to Baylee’s face as she watched Bofur interact with his niece. For some reason, the sight made her insides feel as if they were melting a bit. ‘He’s being so gentle with her,’ she thought. ‘Even more gentle than when he was putting that salve stuff on my arms.’ Though she wanted to reach over and gently tickle Edda’s cheek, she resisted; she knew it was more than a little impolite to touch a near-stranger’s child without their consent. ‘He’d make a good father someday…almost makes me wonder if Rán is any good with children.’ Her cheeks turned a bit pink at the thought.

“Here you go, Bofur,” Gerdi said, bringing over his refilled bowl. She was sure to place it far enough away that Edda wouldn’t accidentally knock it over should one of her limbs flail. At the moment, however, her daughter was attempting to reach for his mustache, though her arms weren’t quite doing what she wanted, making her grunt in frustration.

“Thank you, love,” Bofur chirped. He leaned in a bit closer to Edda. “Here, let me make it a wee bit easier for you,” he told her when he saw her struggling to both extend her arms and open her fingers. A tender smile came to his lips when she was finally able to grab hold of his mustache; he wasn’t worried about her pulling on it too hard just yet. “There you go! You just needed a wee bit o’ help, didn’t you?”

“Was Bofur like this when all o’ your children were newborns?” Baylee asked with a small chuckle.

“It took him until Biriz to get really comfortable around them, but he was the complete opposite o’ what you’re seeing when Baraz was born,” Gerdi replied. Having brought over some tea for herself, she took a sip of it. “He was utterly _terrified_ o’ the wee thing! Can’t blame him much, though—it was the first time he had been around a newborn.”

“Bifur was a natural, o’ course, since he was used t’ being around kids. But I was a nervous wreck,” Bofur laughed. “I was terrified that I was goin’ t’ drop the wee lad or hurt him somehow.”

Baylee smiled, nodding understanding. “I’m fairly certain that’s a fear most people have when holdin’ a newborn for the first time. I know Will an’ me were jittery wrecks when we held Bain for the first time.”

“Will’s large enough, I’m sure he could have held the lad in just his hand,” Bofur joked.

She snorted, her brow rising. “He’s not _that_ big. Though, he might be able t’ hold little Edda there in just his hand.”

“If he’s as big as Bofur claimed he was, I don’t doubt that,” Gerdi smiled, her brow also lifting. “How tall is he compared t’ you?”

Baylee thought for a moment. “I think there’s about four inches between the top o’ my head and his shoulder,” she answered. She watched as Gerdi’s eyes widened and her jaw go slightly slack.

“And Baylee here is the _older_ twin,” Bofur grinned. He nuzzled his nose against Edda’s, feeling her little hands let go of his mustache in favor of trying to grab his face.

“Was your mother a tiny human, too?” Gerdi questioned, trying to wrap her head around someone being _that_ tall.

Baylee shook her head. “She was about a head taller than me. We joke that I didn’t get t’ bake long enough, but Will got an extra hour, so he came out nice an’ tall.”

“I still say you’re just a wee bit under-proofed,” Bofur stated, tone matter-of-fact, “an’ Will’s over-proofed. Neither o’ which is a bad thing in your cases. Though, it does make for some rather hilarious moments when you’re tryin’ t’ scold the lad for something.” Kissing Edda’s forehead, he finally handed her back to her mother so he could eat more soup; the sight had made Baylee’s insides grow warm once more. “Mostly because you have t’ climb on a table t’ be eye-level with him.”

“And even that still doesn’t work,” she grinned.

“Bof?” A tiny voice from the doorway caught their attention and, as the three looked over, they saw Sanna standing there, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand while the other clutched a doll to her chest. She had shoulder-length, auburn curls like her mother and her cheeks were covered in soft, auburn fuzz. “ _Irak’adad Bof!”_ she squealed upon seeing that it _was_ her uncle at the table.

Bofur barely had time to set his spoon down and turn to catch her as she rushed forward. Laughing, he gave her a big hug. “Why, hello there, little badger!” He then blinked as Sanna promptly took his hat from his head and plopped it atop her own. “You lil’ thief.”

Baylee quietly giggled at the sight; she remembered Bofur telling her how much Sanna enjoyed stealing his hat and how it was adorable to see her try to wear it.

Gerdi started to speak to Sanna in Khuzdul, her tone a bit scolding. She then wagged a stern finger at the little girl, who merely continued to wear a big grin as she clung onto her uncle. Then, remembering that they had company, Gerdi sighed. “My apologies; Sanna doesn’t know much Westron, so we have t’ use Khuzdul when speaking with her.”

“It’s quite alright,” Baylee assured her with a smile. “I understand completely.”

Turning slightly to see who her mother was speaking to, Sanna’s eyes widened as she saw the human. She whipped right back around and asked Bofur something—more than likely, asking who she was, Baylee thought.

Bofur answered his niece in Khuzdul, though Baylee recognized the word ‘Iglishmêk’. Both Sanna and Gerdi seemed confused by his reply but, her curiosity getting the better of her, Sanna turned around once more.

 _‘Who are you?’_ she signed.

Baylee smiled, signing back, _‘My name is Baylee. I’m a friend of your uncle’s.’_

Both Sanna and Gerdi stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. Bofur grinned broadly as the two dwarrow dames looked at him, confused.

“You didn’t tell me she knew Iglishmêk!” Gerdi gawked, making both Bofur and Baylee laugh.

“I wanted it t’ be a surprise so I could see how shocked you’d get,” Bofur snickered. He let go of Sanna for a few seconds, letting her turn around on his lap so she could face their guest—as well as steal a bite of his soup.

 _‘Where’s your beard?’_ she signed with one hand, the other gripping Bofur’s spoon as she went in for a second bite.

 _‘I’m a human. Human women don’t have beards.’_ She giggled when Sanna’s brows furrowed in confusion.

_‘How do you know Iglishmêk?’_

_‘I had a nanny when I was your age who had no voice. She taught my whole family Iglishmêk.’_

“Was your nanny a dwarf?” Gerdi questioned, watching their conversation. Part of her wanted to scold her daughter for being so inquisitive, but Baylee didn’t seem to mind in the least. “I ask because I’ve never heard of any human knowing our sign language until now.”

“She’s a half-dwarf, actually,” Baylee told her. As she spoke, she signed the same thing to Sanna.

_‘There are half-dwarves?’_

_‘There are at least two in the world. My old nanny is one and there is another one staying at my family’s inn.’_

At the mention of Rán, Bofur’s brows furrowed and he frowned; Baylee didn’t see it because her focus was on Sanna. Gerdi, however, _did_ see it and made a note to question him about it later.

_‘What’s an inn?’_

_‘It’s like a big house with lots and lots of rooms. People who are traveling can pay to get a good meal and to sleep in one of the rooms. A lot of times, when people don’t feel like cooking, they’ll go to an inn and get their dinner there.’_

_‘Fili and Kili do that! They come here a lot because mama and papa_ always _have food cooking.’_

Gerdi chuckled and lightly shook her head. She said something to Sanna, making the girl pout. “I’m sorry for her inquisitiveness. You’re the first human she’s met, so she’s extra curious.”

“I warned her that she’d be the first human Buruz, Grid, an’ Sanna would meet so she could be a wee bit prepared,” Bofur said. He managed to get his spoon back from his niece so he could eat some of his soup.

“And I don’t mind answerin’ her questions,” Baylee chuckled.

“Well, if she gets too pesky, feel free t’ tell her such. She can sometimes be _too_ curious.”

_‘How tall are you?’_

_‘Not very tall for a human. I’m only a few inches taller than your uncle.’_

At that, Sanna frowned in confusion. _‘But humans are supposed to be really tall!’_

‘ _My twin brother took all the height. He’s_ really _tall. He wouldn’t be able to stand up in here.’_

The little girl’s eyes widened as she looked up at the ceiling. It was a good six feet tall, which was gigantic to her. Now knowing that there was a human taller than the ceiling left her in awe—so much so, that her hands fell ‘silent’.

Outside, there was a flash of light, making them all look out of the window. The dark clouds were still off in the distance, but it had started to ran harder. About a minute and a half later, they could hear the faint sound of thunder outside.

“An’ _that’s_ what I was afraid o’,” Bofur sighed, a frown on his lips. “I think we’re going t’ have t’ stay the night here, lass.” He looked at Baylee, an apologetic expression on his face. “I don’t think it’d be very safe for us t’ travel back in a thunderstorm.”

She nodded in agreement. “Aye, it’d be a bit foolish. Especially since there isn’t much in the way o’ cover.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” he then asked. “I mean, I know you weren’t exactly plannin’ on staying so long…An’ it’s not like we’d make you go t’ one o’ the inns. You could stay in one o’ the guestrooms here. Mahal knows we’ve got enough.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she smiled. “If anything, it means we don’t have t’ rush t’ do anything.”

He smiled, the look a bit softer than usual. “Aye, that’s true,” he chuckled. “Though, now that this little badger is awake, there’s a chance she’s goin’ t’ try to tag along with us.”

Gerdi nodded. “Bofur is her favorite person,” she explained, “so whenever he’s here for a visit, she tends t’ cling to him and be a nuisance.” Then, seeing Sanna reaching for her uncle’s spoon again, she gave her another light scolding in Khuzdul.

“Ah, she’s not a nuisance,” Bofur grinned. Lifting her up slightly, he blew a raspberry against her cheek, making her squeal and squirm. A mischievous grin came to his lips and he started to whisper in her ear.

Her eyes widening and a grin coming to her lips, Sanna nodded. As Bofur told her something else, she nodded again before looking at Baylee. _‘Do you want to go see our garden?’_ she signed.

Baylee’s head tilted in curiosity; there were gardens in the mountain? _‘You have a garden?’_

_‘Yes! We have two, but I can only show you one because of the storm.’_

Glancing at Bofur, Baylee saw that he still wore the mischievous smile. She wondered just what he was up to, so she decided it was best to play along with whatever potential prank this was going to be. _‘Alright, I would love to see your garden then.’_

Sanna giggled and slid off Bofur’s lap before going over to Baylee. As the human stood up, Sanna grabbed her sleeve and started to lead her off.

“That’ll keep the wee lassie occupied for a while,” Bofur snickered, speaking in Khuzdul now. “ _And_ it means Baylee gets to see glow-shrooms.”

Gerdi cocked her brow. “She’s never seen a glow-shroom?”

He shook his head, chewing a bite of soup. “Humans don’t really know about them. And, to be honest, I don’t think most would really care even if they _did_ know.” Reaching for his mug, he took a long drink from it. “But Baylee likes plants. I thought about taking her to a glow-shroom farm so she can see all the different types we’ve got down here. But that was when I was expecting us to only stay here about an hour at most.”

She nodded slowly in understanding and, pulling the wrap from her shoulder, started to wrap Edda to her front. “There is something I wanted to ask you about, by the way.”

“Hmm? What would that be?”

“Earlier, when she told Sanna about the half dwarf staying at her family’s inn, you…didn’t seem to like that very much. Is there something wrong with that half-dwarf?”

Bofur was quiet for a minute, lifting the bowl and drinking some of the broth straight from it. Setting it back down, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “There is, but at the same time, there isn’t. He’s…” He rubbed the side of his neck, trying to think of the best way to tell Gerdi the news about him finding his Second Chance. A defeated chuckle left his mouth and he shrugged, a halfhearted smile coming to his lips. “I guess the best way to say it is the most straightforward way: Baylee’s my Second Chance and that half-dwarf is my romantic rival.”

Gerdi’s eyes widened and her jaw fell completely slack as she stared at her brother-in-law. After a moment, she shook her head and managed to compose herself. “Y-you’re serious? You’ve been blessed with a Second Chance?” Bofur nodded and she leaned back in her seat, pausing in her wrap-arranging. “But, Bofur, you’ve only known the lass for a few months. Are you _certain_ she’s your Second Chance?”

He nodded, chewing another bite of soup. “I’m positive. The way Kaia made me feel…Baylee makes me feel the same way. Lately, I’ve been wondering if what I feel for her is _stronger_ than what I felt for Kaia. But the problem is that me _and_ the half-dwarf both fancy her and _she_ fancies both of _us_.” He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. “He’s got quite the leg up, though…The git’s handsome. _Real_ handsome. He’s got all the young, single women swooning over him.”

At that, Gerdi pursed her lips in a determined pout. “Now don’t you go thinking like that, Bofur! Just because he’s that handsome doesn’t mean the lass finds him such. For all we know, _you’re_ the one she finds incredibly handsome.” Getting Edda secured to her chest, she tied the wrap in place. “And it’s quite clear that the two of you are already good friends. You act as if you’ve known each other for years instead of just months.”

His cheeks turned a bit pink. “That’s because we talk a lot,” he chuckled. “I wake up early so I can go talk with her in the morning before everyone else is up. I make myself some tea while she makes the first round of the daily bread.” Finishing off his cider, he let out a small burp and excused himself. “We’ve come to learn a lot about each other thanks to our morning chats…I even found out she and I share a favorite flower. Though, admittedly, I got that bit of information from her brother.”

“Sunflowers? That’s surprising, since I haven’t seen many up here.”

“Oh, they’re here—they’re just not the big ones that we’re used to. They’re little things, called dwarf sunflowers.” A soft chuckle left his mouth. “Her brother and I made her a window box and filled it with dwarf sunflowers as a surprise for her. He’s supposed to be installing it today…” His voice trailed off slightly as he thought about how happy Baylee would be when she found the window box and its little occupants.

Gerdi wore a small smile as she watched him; as he spoke about the human lass, he looked quite lovesick. After how he had lost Kaia, she felt more than a little elated to hear he was getting a Second Chance. “If she loves sunflowers as much as you do, then I’m sure she’ll love it,” she then said, standing up. “Would you like thirds, dear?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at her with a wide, cheeky grin. “Yes, please!”

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, it was entirely possible to have a garden inside a mountain. While they didn’t contain the same sorts of plants found in gardens outside, they did have their own array of mosses, fungi, and algae. And, unlike most plants on the surface, many of these subterranean plants glowed with a gentle blue or green light.

The Ur family’s garden, Baylee found, was in a wide chamber. The floor was covered in soft moss with bits cut out to mimic stepping stones. There were three ‘trees’ dotted around the chamber with long sheets of moss hanging from their branches. Sanna insisted that, at one point, these trees had been actual, living trees, but they had been turned to stone somehow. At the base of the trees and scattered across the floor in large patches were all sorts of mushrooms. Some glowed brightly while others put off only a little bit of light. Some of the moss, too, glowed, though the glow from it was mild and scattered about in tiny dots; they made Baylee think of stars on a clear night.

 _‘What do you think?’_ Sanna signed, a broad grin on her little face. ‘ _Pretty, isn’t it?’_

 _‘It’s very pretty!’_ Baylee replied. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around; it was hard to believe that the plants were actually _glowing_. ‘I guess Bofur wasn’t joking when he called them glow-shrooms…’

_‘Mama says plants on the surface don’t glow like this. Is that true?’_

_‘It is. Or, at least, I haven’t seen any that glowed.’_

_‘That’s sad. All plants should glow!’_ She giggled, pushing Bofur’s hat up out of her face so she could see the path. _‘They’d be really pretty then!’_

_‘I’m sure they would be! A lot of surface plants, though, are already pretty, even if they don’t glow. They’ve got lots of pretty colors to make up for not glowing.’_

Sanna’s head tilted slightly; the only plants she had seen aside from the mosses, fungi, and algae had been in her mother’s vegetable garden and they didn’t seem very colorful. _‘How many colors?’_

_‘Lots! There’ are as many colors of flowers as there are colors of gemstones.”_

The little girl’s eyes widened as she tried to comprehend just how many colors that was. _‘That’s…a lot of colors…’_

 _‘It is, isn’t it? A lot of them can be used to make dyes for clothes, too.’_ She chuckled quietly; Sanna’s expressions were adorable.

_‘Is your dress made with flower dye?’_

_‘Maybe. It might also be dyed with onion skins. Or maybe even both.’_

_‘…You can make dye from onion skins?’_ An adorably skeptical look came to her face. ‘ _But wouldn’t that leave the dress really stinky?’_

At that, Baylee had to think for a moment. _Would_ onion skins leave a dress smelling bad until it had been washed…? _‘I honestly don’t know.’_

“There you two are.” They looked back towards the mansion only to find Bofur strolling towards them. “I was beginnin’ t’ wonder if the wee lass had kidnapped you t’ go play dollies with her.”

Sanna pouted up at him and asked him something in Khuzdul. Her expression brightened, however, when he shook his head and replied, also in Khuzdul.

“She asked if we were leaving already,” he translated for Baylee. “I told her just for a little bit, but that we’d be back and staying the night.”

 _‘And_ then _she can play dollies with me!’_ Sanna signed, a big, mischievous grin on her lips.

Bofur and Baylee both laughed at her cheekiness. “We’ll see, little badger,” Bofur chuckled. “By the time we get back, Miss Baylee might be too overwhelmed by all your siblings.”

Pursing her lips in a pout, she blew a raspberry up at her uncle, once more making the two adults laugh. _‘How long will you be gone?’_

“A few hours at most. We’ll be back before dinner.” He reached down, patting her atop the head; he lightly shook his head as she held onto his hat, fearing he would take it away from her. Then, scooping her up, he blew a raspberry against her cheek, making her squeal. He spoke more Khuzdul as he set her down before watching as she ran off back towards the mansion.

“You were right. She is a wee cutie,” Baylee smiled, her brow raised.

There was a broad grin on Bofur’s lips as he nodded in agreement. “Aye, she is. I still have yet t’ figure out why she’s got such a fascination over my hat, though.” He started to lead her back up the path, but instead of taking her towards the door of the mansion, he guided her towards a gate. It was partially hidden by a hanging curtain of moss, making it almost impossible to see if you didn’t already know it was there. “Bombur thinks it’s because it makes her think o’ me; Gerdi thinks it’s just because she’s a little stinker.”

“Or it could be both,” Baylee smiled. “It’s cute on her, though, given how big it is on her.” As Bofur both opened the gate and held the moss out of the way for her, she thanked him and stepped through.

“That’s probably the most likely answer,” he snorted, closing the gate behind him. He heard the ‘thunk’ of the lock falling back into place and started to lead Baylee off once more. “I should get her a hat o’ her own just to see if she’ll still end up stealing mine.”

“That would be a good idea. An’ even if she _does_ still end up stealing yours, at least she’ll have her own while you’re not here.” She brushed a bit of hair behind her ear; she was starting to wish she had had Will braid it for her that morning. ‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘Maybe while we’re in the market, I’ll buy a ribbon and braid it back myself.’

“That’s very true, lass,” he smiled. As they reached the end of the short tunnel, he once more opened the gate for her and let her step through first. “Maybe while we’re out, I’ll pop into a haberdashery an’ order one for her.”

Baylee’s head tilted in confusion. “A…haberdashery?”

Glancing over at her, he saw the confusion on her face and gave her an apologetic smile. “Aye, a haberdashery. It’s a shop where they make hats. The hatmaker’s called a haberdasher.”

“I’ve never heard a hatmaker called that before,” she giggled, her brow rising. “It’s a funny sounding word.”

“We dwarves stole it from the hobbits,” he told her, matter-of-factly. “There aren’t too many dwarvish haberdashers, admittedly. Thanks t’ our preoccupation with braidin’ our hair an’ using beads an’ gems in it, most dwarves don’t like t’ wear hats.” As he spoke, he peeked down at her hand. Subtly, he started to move his hands towards it. “Usually, those o’ us who’re lower in social class wear them an’ it’s mostly because they’ve got jobs that either take them down into the mines or take them outside.” His pinky made contact with Baylee’s and he unconsciously held his breath as he continued to slip his hand into hers.

Feeling his ‘subtle’ effort to hold her hand, Baylee smiled shyly as her cheeks turned pink. “I can understand the goin’ outside bit, but I thought dwarves wore helmets in the mines?” To let him know it was alright, she slid her hand further along his palm until the two of them were properly holding each other’s hand once again.

His own cheeks growing pink and a bit of a shy smile coming to his lips as well, Bofur gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It depends on the job you have down in the mines. The helmets are mostly worn by those who are makin’ the paths or are mining in vertical tunnels. The ones who are doing the careful chiseling away o’ gems or hauling rubble out in carts don’t usually wear them, though. They get in the way then, since their heads are movin’ around so much. Sure, we strap the helmets into place, but they’ve still got that candle atop them an’ the last thing they need is for hot wax t’ slosh out an’ down into their face. An’ I’m rambling again. Sorry, lass.” He frowned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t be sorry,” she chuckled. “I’ve told you before: I like hearin’ you ramble. Whenever you do it, it’s informative or entertainin’. Usually both, though.” She gave him a reassuring smile, her cheeks still slightly flushed.

“Well…if ever it gets tirin’, feel free t’ tell me t’ shush,” he said. “I don’t want t’ be annoying.”

“You’re _far_ from annoying, Bofur.” She gave his hand a small squeeze, the smile still on her lips. It was then, however, that she came to realize he was leading her on a different path than the one they had taken to get there. “Is this a shortcut?”

He made a noncommittal sound as he wiggled his free hand up and down. “Somewhat. This path just takes us past where all the food an’ produce vendors are. It’ll start us off in the fabric vendors, though I doubt you’ll find anything Will-sized there. You might find somethin’ you like, though,” he chuckled.

She snorted, her brow rising at the mental image of her brother attempting to wear dwarvish clothing. “Hey, now: He might be able t’ wear a dwarrow dame’s dress as a tunic.”

“Aye, that’s true,” he agreed with a grin. “Though, somethin’ tells me he won’t look _nearly_ as lovely in it as a dwarrow dame would.”

“You’re right. He’d need t’ grow a beard first. _Then_ he’d look as lovely as a dwarrow dame.” A broad grin came to her lips as Bofur burst out laughing.

* * *

Just over twenty minutes later found the pair wandering through the market. As they walked, vendors called out in hopes of luring them—and the tens of dwarves around them—to their stalls and shops. Some of them were calling out in both Khuzdul and Westron, which intrigued Baylee a bit, considering how she had seen, at most, five other humans in the market.

“Some o’ them are always callin’ out in both languages,” Bofur explained. “It’s t’ make themselves look like they’ll be better for humans t’ do business with. Most o’ the time, though, it’s the opposite: The prices they call out in Khuzdul are almost always lower than the prices they call out in Westron, since a lot o’ humans don’t really know the worth o’ dwarvish craftsmanship compared t’ human-made stuff.”

“Then I’m even more thankful I asked you t’ come along,” she chuckled. “I’m already bad enough at hagglin’, so I’ve no doubts I would have gotten cheated out quite easily.”

“Haggling is a delicate art that not everyone can master, so don’t worry if you’re not good at it.” He glanced over at her, slowing his pace somewhat when he noticed that, as they passed by a jewelry shop, she was gawking at the wares. “Spotted somethin’ you like, eh?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Just a few necklaces…but they’re too elegant for me.” She shrugged, continuing to look at the lovely pieces of jewelry. Even in the shops back in Dale, she hadn’t seen this much jewelry in one place. “They’d need t’ be on someone like Prim or her sisters.” Her cheeks turned a bit red as she spoke; she had always wished she had more jewelry to wear, but aside from her ear cuff, she owned none. ‘They’d probably look ridiculous on me, anyway,’ she thought.

Bofur leaned back slightly, peeking past her to see what sorts of things she was looking at. To his great surprise, the pieces she had said were ‘too elegant’ were, in actuality, quite simple, even by human standards. There were silver and gold chains of varying thicknesses with a pendant or three meant to hang lower on the neck and chest as well as necklaces strung with metal or glass beads (sometimes both!) meant to be worn at the base of the neck or as chokers.

There was one in particular, he saw, that he _knew_ had to have caught her eye: A gold chain with a sunflower-shaped pendant, its petals being formed by either topaz or yellow citrine while the seedpod was formed by a piece of smoky quartz. The metal used for the gems’ settings had been oxidized so that they were black, making for a lovely contrast between the bright stones and the metal.

‘She _needs_ that,’ he thought, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Standing upright again, he found that Baylee was still looking at other pieces the shop had on display, these ones _actually_ being elegant. “Thinkin’ about gettin’ your brother one o’ those fancier necklaces?” he joked, chuckling.

She snorted, her brow rising. “No, no—one o’ those fancy headpieces,” she jested in return, nodding at some of the jewel-encrusted bands that were meant to sit atop a dwarrow dame’s hair bun.

“Ooh, I think he’d look might nice with that amethyst one there.” He pointed at one that, even by dwarvish standards, could be considered outrageously extravagant.

“Hmm…I actually think that one would suit papa more.” She giggled as Bofur paused, mentally imagining her giant of a father in a headpiece. He then burst out laughing, which only made her giggle more.

“Somethin’ tells me your da’ isn’t really the type t’ do his hair all fancy, which is a shame, considering those are meant t’ sit atop buns,” he told her, still snickering. “Will, though…Will I can see doin’ his hair fancy.”

She snorted. “I can’t quite see it, but I _can_ see him doin’ his ladylove’s hair all fancy an’ buying her one o’ those pieces t’ wear.”

His eyes widened as he started to lead her off again. “Will has himself a lass?”

“Aye, but ah, don’t be lettin’ papa know. She’s the daughter o’ his rival.”

“You mean that Stover fellow?” She nodded. “Ahh…I see why Will’s keepin’ it secret then. But she must be a beauty if she’s makin’ your brother o’ all people sneak around.”

“That’s a _major_ understatement,” she chuckled. “Adela is, hands-down, the most beautiful woman in the whole o’ Dale. There’s hardly a single, woman-lovin’ lad in town who hasn’t tried t’ win her over.”

“Funny how such a rotten man can have such a lovely daughter.”

She nodded in agreement. “His son, Ned, is just as attractive an’ is the heartthrob o’ Laketown. An’ they both get their looks from him, as Mannus is, sadly, as handsome as he is rotten.” She shook her head, sighing.

“Is there any reason why the bloke was obsessed with your mum?” he questioned, his brow rising slightly. “Or was it just love-turned-obsession?”

“Most definitely love-turned-obsession. An’ it didn’t help that the git thought mum was Nessa herself in mortal form because o’ how well mum could dance.”

“She was a good dancer?” Baylee nodded. “Hm. I have t’ admit, that doesn’t surprise me very much.”

She looked at him, her head tilting in confusion. “Hmm? Why’s that?”

He shrugged, smiling. “The way you an’ your aunt moved around one another when you were sparrin’; you had t’ have inherited that grace from somewhere, after all. Aye, you were fightin’, but it also looked like you two were dancing. An’ it only got better once you got that spear in your hand.”

Baylee felt her cheeks grow hot at his words and she shyly glanced away. “We-well, mum an’ auntie always said that fighting is like a dance. I suppose I just fancied the dancing part more than the fightin’ part.” She felt Bofur give her hand another little squeeze and, peeking at him from the corner of her eye, she could see that there was an amused smile on his lips.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, lass,” he assured her. “I’d rather see you wearin’ that pretty smile o’ yours on the dance floor than see you done up in armor an’ dancing ‘round the battlefield.” His smile turned cheeky when he saw how much redder her cheeks became at his compliment.

* * *

They spent nearly three hours in the market, Baylee trying her hardest to find some sort of gift for her twins. The chisel set, she and Bofur decided, would be best coming from him and Bifur; it’d be a bit strange for her to gift him such fine chisels when it might be a few more months before they asked him if he’d like to be a toymaker. But while she didn’t find any gifts for him, she _did_ get a few ideas.

When they had finished browsing, Bofur temporarily left her to sit in the square for a bit so he could grab a few things Gerdi had requested. Being that he knew the market like the back of his hand, though, he was gone only about ten minutes. When he returned, he had a large ham wrapped in brown paper tucked under one arm and half a wheel of cheese tucked under the other arm. Baylee offered to carry one, since she wasn’t carrying anything, but he refused, telling her he had a good hold on both.

Upon their return to the Ur mansion, they found that Bombur and the rest of his children were back. Bombur, Baylee found, was much wider than she could have ever anticipated. He also had a _much_ bigger beard than his older brother; it was so long, the braid it made started on the left side of his face, looped nearly all the way down past his stomach, and came back around only to be seamlessly braided into the whiskers on the right side of his face.

“So, _you’re_ the innkeeper’s daughter Bofur and Bifur have told us about!” he said after Bofur had finished introducing Baylee to the rest of the family. “Gerdi was just tellin’ me how the two o’ you stopped in for lunch and ended up deciding to spend the night due to the weather.” He took a step back, looking her over. “I must admit, I thought those two were overexaggeratin’ your shortness! I daresay you’re about as tall as Dwalin!”

“He’s the tallest dwarf in Erebor,” Bofur quickly explained. He passed the ham and the half wheel of cheese over to his brother.

She nodded in understanding, her cheeks a touch on the pink side again as she chuckled. Her mouth opened, as she had every intention of replying, but, instead, she let out a small squeak of surprise as she felt someone suddenly cling onto her forearm. Looking down, she saw Sanna (who still wore her uncle’s hat) cheekily grinning up at her as she started trying to climb up her side.

“Sanna! Don’t be climbing on our guests!” Bombur scolded.

“It’s quite alright,” she assured him, holding her arm out a bit to grant the dwarrowling more of a handhold. “Bofur warned me that she does this. An’ my nephew used t’ like t’ climb when he was younger, so I’m fairly used to it.” There was one main difference between Sanna climbing on her and Bain climbing on her, however, and that difference was about ten pounds. She knew dwarves were denser than humans, but hadn’t expected the little lass to weigh as much as she did.

Bombur still seemed a bit cautious for that very reason. “Are you sure? I know dwarrowlings are a bit heavier than human children.”

“Aye, it’s fine, I promise,” she smiled. “She’s not too heavy at all.”

“Baylee’s a strong lass,” Bofur chuckled. He smiled fondly as he watched Sanna manage to climb up and get herself situated on Baylee’s shoulders. “She works in an inn all day, remember? She’s used t’ carryin’ loads o’ food all over the place.” Hearing a small giggle that _didn’t_ come from Sanna, he spun around just in time to be knocked to the ground by a pair of dwarrowlings: Grid and Buruz. “I was wonderin’ when I’d see the two o’ you!”

They excitedly started to speak to him in Khuzdul, both trying to talk overtop the other. In their effort to talk over their sibling, their voices were steadily getting louder and louder. That is, until Bofur reached up and clapped a hand over both their mouths.

“Calm down, you two!” he laughed. “I’m going t’ be here all night, so there’s no need t’ try an’ say everything all in one go, alright?” When they nodded, he moved his hand away from their mouths. “Now, why don’t you let me an’ Miss Baylee go get somethin’ t’ drink and we’ll meet you in the living room? _Then_ you can talk my ears off.”

Grid and Buruz blinked before looking up at Baylee. They had been told that a human guest would be spending the night, leaving them to imagine someone tall and who didn’t look anything like them. So to see someone nearly the same height as a dwarf, just much skinnier and without a beard, was _almost_ disappointing to them.

A skeptical look came to Buruz’s face and he asked her something in Khuzdul.

“He asked if you’re sure you’re not a dwarf,” Bofur translated, snickering.

“Aye, I’m sure I’m not a dwarf,” she smiled. “I’m just very small for a human.”

“You one who make bread?” Grid asked in broken Westron, her head tilting slightly.

Baylee nodded. “Aye, I am.”

“Is very good! Need make more.”

“Grid!” Bombur scolded, though there was a bit of laughter to his voice. “Don’t just tell our guest to make more bread; that’s rude!”

Bofur nodded in agreement. “Aye. You have t’ ask her nicely.” He grinned as Bombur used his foot to gently nudge his shoulder. Then, sitting up, he chuckled as Grid and Buruz went rolling off of him. He stood and brushed himself off. “On second thought, why don’t you badgers show Miss Baylee t’ the living room while I got fetch her an’ me some drinks?”

The pair nodded and, given that Baylee already had Sanna’s approval, Grid took her hand and started to lead her off. She was mindful when they came to doorways thanks to the little girl on her shoulders and, even though she had quite a bit of clearance, Baylee still crouched down a few inches just to be safe.

“How know Uncle Bof?” Buruz asked as they guided her into a large, open room. There was a fireplace in the center of the room, with many chairs and couches arranged around it.

“He’s been stayin’ at my family’s inn,” she answered. A quiet laugh left her mouth as Grid pointed at one of the more plush chairs before motioning her to sit. “That’s where you’d like me t’ sit?”

Grid nodded, a broad grin coming to her face.

“Alright. Just a moment.” Baylee reached back and, lifting Sanna up, brought her down off her shoulders. When she set her down on her feet, she saw that the littlest girl was pouting now. ‘ _Let me sit down and then you can climb up again. Is that alright?’_ she signed.

 _‘Yes!’_ Sanna replied, now also wearing a grin.

As Baylee sat down, she heard the three starting to talk in fast Khuzdul to one another. Just when she got comfortable in the chair (which wasn’t hard, as it was a _very_ comfortable one), Grid and Buruz looked at her questioning. _‘If you’re going to ask if I can use Iglishmêk, the answer is ‘yes’,’_ she signed before they asked, a cheeky smile on her lips.

Buruz’s eyes opened wide in shock and Grid started to giggle. _‘How does a human know Iglishmêk?’_ she signed.

‘ _I had a half-dwarf nanny who had no voice, so she used Iglishmêk to communicate. My whole family knows it.’_

 _‘I thought humans aren’t allowed to know it?’_ Buruz signed, his shocked expression turning to one of confusion. Grid said something to him; Baylee supposed it was something along the lines of ‘That’s only Khuzdul, dummy’, because Buruz blew a raspberry at his sister.

Sanna giggled at her siblings before starting to climb up into Baylee’s lap. Once she was properly situated, she signed, ‘ _Are you and uncle really staying the night?”_

Nodding, Baylee smiled and signed back, _‘Yes, we are. The weather outside is too frightful for us to go back to Dale.’_

 _‘Why are you so small?’_ Buruz asked. Seeing that Grid was dragging a footstool over to sit on.

_‘Because my twin brother stole all the height from me.’_

_‘How big is he?’_

_‘Too tall to stand upright in here.’_

Once more, Buruz’s eyes widened in shock. _‘That’s…big…’_

She nodded, watching as Grid and Buruz moved to sit on the footstool.

 _‘How did you get so good at making bread?’_ Grid signed, wiggling backwards slightly so that she wasn’t on the edge of the stool.

_‘I make it every single morning for our inn. Sometimes, I have to make it two or three times a day.’_

‘ _Why so much bread?’_ Sanna asked, tilting her head back to look at Baylee’s face.

_‘People really like our inn, so they come and eat meals there instead of cooking for themselves.’_

Grid tilted her head in curiosity. _‘Do you cook all the meals?’_

 _‘No. We have two cooks who do it for us. I usually make breakfast, though, since that meal isn’t too popular. It’s usually only our guests who are present for that meal.’_ She brushed her hair behind her ear again, this time taking a few seconds to weave it around the metal of her cuff to keep it in place. _‘Your uncle helps me make breakfast sometimes, too.’_

All three of them looked shocked by this information; their parents (and sometimes Berez) were usually the ones who did all the cooking at the mansion. None of them could ever remember seeing their Uncle Bof cooking.

 _‘Uncle Bof can cook!?’_ all three of them signed, almost at exactly the same time.

“O’ course I can cook!” They all looked over at the doorway to find Bofur entering. He held two tankards—which Baylee recognized as the ones they had used at lunch. “I may not be nearly as good as your mummy and daddy, but I can cook a decent meal. I’m better at choppin’ vegetables an’ meats though. Which is what Miss Baylee here usually has me do.” He came over, handing Baylee her mug. “Sorry, lass. I forgot t’ ask what you wanted to drink, so I got you more cider.”

“That’s fine,” she smiled, happily taking the mug from him. “I would have said cider if you had asked.” She was careful to not bonk Sanna in the head as she took a drink from the tankard.

“I hope these three aren’t botherin’ you too much.” He moved to sit down in the chair beside hers.

Grid pouted at her uncle, refuting him in Khuzdul. She crossed her arms over her chest and blew a raspberry at him.

“Careful, wee lassie—I might have t’ tickle you if you start gettin’ an attitude,” Bofur jokingly threatened. Using his foot, he dragged over another footstool and propped his feet up. “Or worse: Dangle you upside down over the soup pot!”

Giggling, Grid partially shielded herself behind her big brother.

Baylee also laughed, her brow rising. “Dangling them over the soup pot? Now that’s a new one. I might have t’ use that against Sigrid an’ Bain at some point.”

‘ _Who’re they?’_ Buruz asked.

“They’re my niece and nephew—sort of. Their father is a really good friend of my family’s, so his children have adopted me as their aunt.” As she spoke, she signed at the same time, just in case any of the three had trouble understanding everything.

“They’re also the prince an’ princess o’ Dale,” Bofur added, copying Baylee and signing as he spoke.

 _‘We know princes, too!’_ Grid excited signed. ‘ _Fili and Kili! But they’re not little.’_

Buruz shook his head and added, _‘They’re adults. Fili’s almost a hundred!’_

“He’s ninety-two,” his uncle chuckled, his brow rising. He took a drink of his cider.

“He’s got sixty-two years on me, then,” Baylee stated with a small laugh. “I’ll only be thirty in two months.” She took a drink of her own cider, enjoying its flavor; it was a bit sweeter than the one they had at the Tankard.

The three children stared at her in shock.

 _‘You’re still a kid!?’_ Grid signed, her eyes wide.

“No, no—Humans come o’ age much sooner than dwarves,” she explained. “We come o’ age at sixteen.”

 _‘Boroz just turned sixteen!’_ Buruz grinned. _‘So he’s an adult in human years!’_

 _‘Why do you come of age sooner?’_ Sanna asked, her head tilted as she looked up at Baylee once again.

“Because we don’t live as long as dwarves,” she told them. “Most o’ us only live t’ see seventy-five.”

While the children looked perplex by this, Bofur felt his stomach sink. He had almost entirely forgotten that humans had such short lifespans compared to dwarves, who usually lived to be over two hundred.

‘It’s not like I’m much of a spring chicken,’ he told himself. ‘I reckon I’ve got only a handful of decades left, so if she did pick me, _maybe_ there’s a chance we’d be able to grow old together…? But, even if we didn’t, I’d still be more than happy to spend what time she _does_ have left with her…’

“Bofur? Is everything alright?”

He blinked, looking over to find concern on Baylee’s face as she watched him. “Oh, aye!” he said, an apologetic smile coming to his lips. “Sorry about that; I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. What were you sayin’?”

“I wasn’t sayin’ anything, but your badgers were,” she told him, her head tilting slightly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

A cheeky grin came to his lips. “Aye, lass, I promise,” he told her. “Was just gettin’ sappy thoughts about how quickly these three are growin’ an’ how, soon, wee little Edda will be crawlin’ around, chasin’ after them.”

Buruz groaned and spoke in Khuzdul; he earned another set of raspberries blown at him by both Grid and Sanna.

“He said that his little sisters are no fun an’ having Edda around will only make things less fun,” Bofur translated with a snort. “By the time Edda’s old enough t’ be crawling, lad, you’ll be startin’ lessons, so you won’t have t’ be home t’ play with her most o’ the day.”

Buruz stuck his tongue out in distaste before speaking in Khuzdul once more. Bofur’s brow rose and he reached over with his foot, using it to nudge his nephew’s leg.

“If you’re goin’ t’ talk in front o’ Miss Baylee, use Iglishmêk as well, lad,” he gently scolded. “It’s rude t’ speak in languages guests can’t understand.”

 _‘Sorry, uncle and Miss Baylee,_ ’ Buruz signed with a slight pout as his sisters giggled.

* * *

Some hours later found Bofur holding an oil lamp as he led Baylee down the hall of a dark and seemingly unused portion of the mansion. Once in a while, they could hear the faint rumble of thunder, letting them know that the storm was still raging outside.

“I’m a wee bit surprised. Storms have normally blown themselves out by now,” Bofur commented as he opened a door. “But this one seems t’ be lastin’ for quite some time.” As he stepped into the room, he turned the lamp’s wick up a bit so more of the room could be lit. “Even that one we had a few weeks ago blew itself out in a few hours. This’ll be your room, by the way.”

“This storm’s also a lot slower movin’,” she reminded him. As she looked around, she found that the bed, which only had sheets and pillows on it at the moment, had been carved into the wall. Over the bed was a large window overlooking the western slopes of the mountain and the lands beyond. Just as she looked out of it, lightning streaked across the sky. “Ooh, that’s a nice view,” she murmured, a grin coming to her lips.

Bofur chuckled, watching as she crawled onto the bed to see more of the storm. “I thought you might like this room for that reason,” he told her. Setting the lamp down on the bedside table, he hooked his thumb in his belt. “Now, I’ll go fetch you some blankets so you don’t freeze durin’ the night. Would you like one or two?”

“Hm…Maybe two, just t’ be safe?”

He nodded. “Two blankets, comin’ right up.” Turning, he left the room and walked back the way he and Baylee had came; he didn’t mind the darkness, as he had walked this path thousands of times before.

As he walked, he thought about how dinner went and how she seemed to fit in so well. Baylee had done her best to keep up with all the food tossing, which both impressed and amused his family. She was also a good deal more polite, being that she said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ more than the others—namely the younger children, who were too busy shoving food in their mouths (and getting scolded by Bombur, Gerdi, Bofur, and Baraz for their behavior).

‘I think the lads and me have got her well versed in the art of passing food around,’ he said to himself. ‘Though, I do think the poor lass was a bit overwhelmed by just how many people were present and how much food was being thrown around. Can’t say that I blame her, though—I’m related to all of them and I still get overwhelmed at times!’

Reaching the linen closet, he opened it up and felt around for the softest blankets. ‘I know Bombur and Gerdi had a hard time resisting the urge to pile more food onto her plate…Poor thing barely had enough room for dessert—and that was _after_ waiting an hour.’ He shook his head, chuckling quietly. ‘She did good, though. It was certainly the most I’ve ever seen her eat…Though, I am glad she didn’t eat herself sick. I was worried that might happen, since Bombur and Gerdi want to make sure everyone eats their fill.’ With the blankets in hand, he closed the door and headed back down the hall.

As he returned to the guest room, he stopped in the doorway, his eyes widening slightly. Baylee had removed her sash and overdress, leaving her in just the fitted brown dress; she didn’t seem notice him as she pulled her hair over her shoulder, tying it into a loose braid just to keep it out of the way. It was then he realized that he had never actually seen her in fitted clothes—all her clothes seemed to be on the somewhat baggy side, which he quickly discovered had hidden a set of curves he had _not_ been expecting to find on the lass.

‘Oh…now those are _quite_ a lovely surprise,’ he thought, his cheeks growing warm. Realizing he was staring, he forced himself to look away. “I’ve got the blankets for you, lass,” he told her, acting like he had just come back. He stepped into the room, moving to put the blankets on the bed for her.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling tiredly at him. Before he could get halfway across the room, however, she took the blankets from him. “Ooh, these feel amazingly soft!” she murmured, her eyes widening.

A grin came to his lips as he watched her raise them up so she could nuzzle her cheek against them. “Aye, I got you the softest ones I could find,” he admitted. “Do you need anythin’ else, lass? Maybe a nightshirt, so you don’t get your dress all wrinkled?”

There was a half-minute pause as she mulled over the offer, but in the end, she shook her head. “No, thank you. This’ll do just fine.”

He nodded. “Alright. If you _do_ need anythin’, my room is directly across the hall. An’ if you need the privy, it’s the last door o’ this hallway.”

“Last door, got it,” she chuckled, setting the blankets down on the bed. She glanced over at Bofur, a gentle smile coming to her lips. It had been nice, spending the whole day with him and getting to meet his family; yes, it was a touch overwhelming at times, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. “Actually, there is _one_ thing I could use.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“A hug.”

He blinked, a bit surprised by her answer, but after a couple of seconds, he grinned. “O’ course you can have one, lass.”

She walked over to him, her eyes closing in content when she felt his arms wrap around her. “Thank you for the wonderful day,” she murmured, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you had fun, lass.” He unconsciously started to stroke the back of her head. “An’ I’m sorry if my family was a bit… _much_ at times.”

“Don’t be. Aye, they could be a bit much at times, but I enjoyed meetin’ them nonetheless.” Unaware of her own movements, she turned her head and nuzzled it into the crook of his neck.

Feeling her head against his neck, he smiled and left his eyes drift shut. This felt… _right_. “Buruz, Grid, an’ Sanna can be quite excitable when they’re meetin’ someone new an’ the fact that you’re a human made that excitement triple, it seems. But they seemed t’ like you well enough. Sanna, especially.”

“They’re sweethearts,” she murmured. “A wee bit hyper, aye, but sweethearts nevertheless…Just like their uncle.” She felt her cheeks grow warm as the words left her mouth.

“Ah, that’s only because I show you my good side,” he joked, his cheeks having turned red as well. “The others get t’ see my grumpy side.”

“ _You_? Have a _grumpy_ side? Now _that_ I doubt,” she quietly giggled.

“Hey now, I’ve got one o’ them,” he grinned. “It’s rarely seen, but I _do_ have one. Now, _you_ on the other hand—I’m certain you don’t have one.”

“If you could see me in the wee hours o’ the morning, havin’ t’ help haul Will’s arse in through my window because he forgot t’ grab the spare key for the third time in a month, then you’d know I have one,” she quietly giggled.

His brow rose and he snorted. “Ooh, so sneakin’ out t’ meet his ladylove makes him a wee bit airheaded, does it?”

“Aye, it does.” As much as she wanted to stay there in his arms, Baylee forced herself to end the hug. “Though, speakin’ o’ wee hours o’ the morning, we should probably get t’ bed before it gets that late.”

Nodding in agreement, he hoped that his disappointment at the hug ending wasn’t obvious. “Aye, that’s a good idea,” he chuckled. “I hope you sleep well, lass.”

“I hope you do, too,” she smiled. “Goodnight, Bofur.”

“Goodnight, lass.” He shut the door behind him as he left.

While arranging the pillows and blankets to her liking, Baylee let out a content sigh. She laid down on her side so she could watch the storm outside. All the while, the smile never left her lips.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all~! I just wanted to give you all a fair warning: This chapter depicts some physical and verbal abuse towards a female character. 
> 
> The scene starts shortly after Bofur and Baylee reach the southern gate and ends when you see the line starting with 'Shaking her head, Baylee...'.

During the night, the storm had blown itself out, leaving calm, but still grey, skies and no rain. Bofur hoped that it would remain this way long enough to let him and Baylee return to the Full Tankard nice and dry. At the moment, though, he didn’t need to worry about staying dry—he just had to worry about waking Baylee up, as it was nearly nine o’clock in the morning.

‘I hope she’s feeling alright,’ he thought with a frown. ‘That’d be horrible—I introduce her to my family only for her to go and get sick…’ He looked down at the mug of tea he held; it was lemon-ginger, a flavor he had never personally tried, but Dori said it tasted divine. ‘I hope she likes this flavor. I remember her saying she loves lemon and it smells pretty good, so it can’t be _too_ bad.’

Reaching the guestroom, he knocked on the door. “Baylee? You awake?” He waited a few seconds, but no answer came so he knocked a second time. But still no answer. His brows furrowing, he quietly opened the door and poked his head in. “Lass?”

Across the room, he could see Baylee still in bed and it looked like she was curled up. Still frowning somewhat, he stepped into the room and made his way over to her, hoping she wasn’t curled up because of a stomachache. He set the tea down on the nightstand and turned towards her so he could gently shake her. Before he did, however, he leaned over slightly to check on her. While she was curled up into a small ball, he was relieved to find that she didn’t seem the least bit sick. Instead, she wore a content smile as she slept peacefully, a pillow clutched to her chest.

‘Now I almost hate to wake her,’ he thought, feeling his insides grow a bit warm at the sight. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look this peaceful.’

He let out a small, defeated sigh and set his hand on her shoulder before gently shaking her. “Baylee, it’s time t’ wake up,” he said, his voice gentle so as to not startle her.

“Mmm…just a few more minutes,” she mumbled, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over her head.

Bofur was unable to silence a snort as he watched her. “Lass, it’s nearly nine o’clock.”

She suddenly pushed the blanket down and bolted upright. “You’re jokin’.”

He shook his head, chuckling quietly; her hair was a mess. “Nope. That’s actually why I’m up here: I got a wee bit worried that you had fallen ill or somethin’ because you were sleepin’ so long.”

“No, no—I feel fine,” she assured him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I was just really comfortable an’ warm.” She gave him a somewhat sleepy smile before pushing the blankets aside and letting her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, something they _didn’t_ do with her own bed. She was surprised; she had expected the stone to be cold, but she found it to be pleasantly warm.

“Well, that’s good t’ hear,” he smiled. Grabbing the mug, he held it out to her. “Here. I brought you some tea t’ help you wake up.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the mug from him. Holding it close to her face, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent. “Mmm…I smell lemon,” she murmured. She opened an eye as she felt the bed shift beside her and found that Bofur was now sitting beside her. A small smile coming to her lips, she let her eye fall shut again.

“Aye. It’s lemon-ginger,” he replied with a small chuckle. “I hope you like it; I’ve never actually had that flavor before, but Dori’s a fan o’ it.”

“I think I had it once, but it was a long time ago.” She blew across the top of the tea a few times before taking a small sip. It was still quite hot, making her glad she had only taken a sip. “Mm…I approve.”

He laughed, his brow rising. “Gerdi might send you home with the tin o’ it then. The others don’t really like it much.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can’t say that I’d complain about that,” she smiled.

“Good, because I know for a fact she’s also loadin’ that basket o’ yours up with goodies for us t’ take back,” he grinned.

“Ooh, what kind o’ goodies?” Blowing across the top of her tea once more, she took a second sip. The tartness of the lemon was an almost perfect pairing for the spiciness of the ginger, though she wished there was a bit _more_ tartness.

Gathering up his courage, he brought out a pendant from under his tunic and, pulling it in half, revealed it to be a comb. “Mostly baked goods like scones an’ hand pies.” While he spoke, he turned to face her before reaching over and gathering up her hair. “Though, I think she’s also slippin’ in a rope o’ the sausage she used in yesterday’s soup.”

Her cheeks grew pink as she felt him starting to comb her hair for her. “Ooh, I’ll be certain t’ put those t’ good use then,” she smiled. She shifted a bit, now sitting with her back more towards him so he had an easier time reaching her hair. “An’ I can promise it won’t be in sausage gravy.”

“I’m sure whatever you use it for, it’ll be delicious,” he snorted. He could feel his cheeks burning as he ran the comb through her hair; he hadn’t expected her hair be so soft. “Unless, o’ course, you’re thinkin’ about putting it in some sort o’ dessert.”

It was her turn to snort. “Ew, why would I put sausage in a dessert?” she giggled, her brow rising. “That sounds like somethin’ Will would do if he were left t’ his own devices in the kitchen.”

“I take it he’s not the best o’ cooks?”

“He can hardly cook a scrambled egg without burnin’ it.”

“Ooh, aye, that’s not very good then,” he chuckled. With her hair now free of tangles, he started to separate out pieces for him to braid. “A wee bit off topic, but before we leave, did you want t’ go see if your spear was ready?”

“Aye, that’d be a good idea.” A quiet laugh left her mouth. “It’s a good thing you brought that up, because I had completely forgotten about it.”

His brow rose as he smiled. “The lassie with the crazy-good memory forgot all about her spear?” he teased. “Now that’s a wee bit surprising.”

She snorted and playfully rolled her eyes. “I suppose it slipped my mind while we were wandering around the market yesterday. Or maybe it got lost among the sea o’ questions your badgers were askin’ me.” As she felt him beginning to braid, she wondered how many he planned on doing.

“They did ask you quite a few, didn’t they?” he chuckled. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. They’re children an’ they’re curious. And like you said last night, I’m the first human they’ve met. O’ course they’re going to ask me lots of things.”

“Well, I appreciate you humorin’ them. And I’m glad they didn’t ask anything _too_ invasive…you know how little ones don’t have the most refined o’ filters, after all.”

She nodded slightly, having been in the midst of taking another sip of tea. Her eyes fell shut as she enjoyed their closeness. “Aye, that’s very true. But now that you’ve said that, they going t’ start askin’ me those kind o’ questions now,” she laughed.

“Well, if they do, I’ll dangle them over the soup pot,” he grinned.

“Don’t forget you have t’ dangle them _upside down_ if you have to do that.”

“Ah, aye, that’s true. It’s not quite the same if I’m holdin’ them by the hands instead o’ the ankles.” As Baylee started to laugh harder, he felt his stomach flutter slightly. “Though, Grid an’ Buruz are getting a bit too tall for that punishment…I think they’d just grab a spoon and start eatin’ the soup instead o’ being frightened by it.”

“And something tells me that Sanna is the sort who’d just be gigglin’ the whole time.”

Though he knew she couldn’t see it, he nodded. “Aye, you’re right—she is the sort who’d do that. Then again, she’s also the one who enjoyed it when Thorin held her by the ankles as he spun in circles…”

Baylee giggled hard at that, trying to picture the stern-faced king doing such a silly thing. “I know you’re tellin’ the truth, but I honestly can’t picture him doin’ that,” she told him. “He seems too…too…”

“Serious?”

“Aye, serious.”

“He can be, but he also knows how t’ have fun.” By now, he had finished weaving six love-knots into her hair, leaving him with just three more to do. “You should see him at feasts—that’s when he really loosens up. He’s drinkin’ an’ laughin’ an’ dancin’ an’ singing…He’s completely different when he’s not havin’ to be his kingly self. After all, most o’ his life was spent workin’ among common folk, despite still being a king.”

“Really?”

“Aye. I know—it’s hard t’ believe, but I’m tellin’ you the truth.” He brushed one of his own braids over his shoulder. “Can the same be said for Bard?”

“Ah, a wee bit, I suppose.” Her tea being cool enough to not burn her mouth now, she took a long drink. “It takes a _lot_ more t’ get him t’ loosen up that much. Even when we were younger, it took a good deal o’ wine t’ get him dancing an’ singing.”

“But it _is_ possible, aye?”

“Oh, aye. He just needs a bottle an’ a half o’ wine or two tankards o’ mead. _Maybe_ five tankards o’ beer.” She quietly giggled. “Just don’t give him whiskey.”

“Uh-oh. Why’s that?”

“Every time I’ve seen him drink more than two drinks o’ the stuff, he was passed out within twenty minutes. The next mornin’, he’d wake up with the _worst_ hangover. Not even pickle juice could cure it, it’d be so bad.”

His brow rose at that. “Pickle juice cures hangovers? I’ve never heard o’ such a thing.”

“Really?” Her own brow rose. “That’s strange; I thought everyone knew it?” She then shrugged. “Well, it does help quite a bit, though no one’s quite sure _why_ it works. Uncle thinks it has somethin’ t’ do with the spices that go into the brine.”

Starting on the final braid, he chuckled. “I would think the vinegar in it would just make your stomach churn even worse.”

“You’re supposed t’ eat some plain bread or crackers with it for that very reason. Sometimes, though, you can get away with just drinkin’ the juice.”

“How much juice does it take?”

“Not much. About two drinks worth—at least, for me, that’s what it takes.”

“An’ how many times have you had t’ have pickle juice t’ cure a hangover?” he asked, a bit of laughter in his voice.

“Not many, thankfully,” she chuckled. “I try not t’ drink that much anymore, which is why the strongest drink I’ll do is wine. I’m such a lightweight, other drinks will knock me on my rump in no time.”

He snorted at the thought. “What kind o’ drunk do you turn into?” he teased. “I’m going t’ bet you’re the cuddly sort o’ drunk.”

She laughed, brow rising. “Am I that predictable?” she joked. “Aye, I’m the cuddly sort. Valar help anyone who’s within reach o’ me, because I _will_ cling onto them an’ start tellin’ them all the good things I like about them.”

“That doesn’t sound the least bit unpleasant,” he grinned. “If ever I get t’ see you drunk, I’ll be sure t’ stay nearby.”

Her cheeks flushed and a shy smile came to her lips. “You’ll have t’ be careful, because papa or Will are usually around t’ carry my arse off t’ bed when I get that way.”

Snorting once again, he shook his head. “That’s no fun, but I can understand why they do it.” With all nine love-knots done, he then started to weave them all into one, singular braid. “I don’t get much different when I’m drunk, though my crude humor tends t’ come out more. An’ I try t’ pull pranks on people, apparently.”

“Pranks? What kind o’ pranks?” she asked with a laugh.

“Really, really strange ones. Like, one time I apparently put an egg into Dwalin’s tankard o’ beer—just a whole egg, still in its shell. Another time, I managed t’ tie Dori an’ Gloin’s boots together. The dumbest one, really, was when I put an apple in Fili’s hood.”

“Those all sound likes pranks a child would pull,” she giggled. “I bet you were really proud at the time when you accomplished them.”

“Oh, I was,” he snorted. “An’ then the next morning, I was baffled as t’ why I even _thought_ about doin’ something so stupid.” Now finished with her hair, he slid a wooden box out of his pocket and opened it up. Inside was the sunflower necklace from the previous day; the sight of it brought a small smile to his lips. He closed the box once more and tucked it out of sight for a few minutes. “I’m done with your hair, by the way.”

As she turned back around to face him, she saw that he was in the middle of sliding his comb back into its holder. “That’s an interesting way t’ carry a comb,” she commented, her head tilting. “Doesn’t it ever fall loose?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It’s a fairly snug fit, so it takes a bit o’ effort t’ pull it free.” Smiling, he tucked it back under his tunic. “You won’t find a single adult dwarf without one o’ these on their person at all times.”

“I believe it. You lot have t’ keep your hair an’ beards looking presentable, after all.”

A cheeky grin came to his lips and Baylee thought she could see a bit of twinkle of mischief come to his eyes. “Aye, that we do. An’ speakin’ o’ being presentable, I’ve got somethin’ for you.”

Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Wh-what?”

“I’ve got somethin’ for you,” he repeated, his voice getting a bit chirpy now. “So, close your eyes an’ hold out your hands.”

“I don’t know,” she chuckled, her brow now rising. “With how bubbly you just got, I almost feel like this is going t’ be some sort of prank.” She set her tea on the nightstand.

He snorted. “No, no—I promise it’s no trick. I’ve truly got a present for you, lass.” A quiet chuckle left his mouth as he watched her hesitantly close her eyes and hold out her hands just as instructed. Grabbing the box, he then set it on her palms. “Alright. You can look now.”

When she opened her eyes and saw the box in her hands, her brow rose once more. Truthfully, since he had brought this up after talking about his comb, she was wondering if he had gotten her one similar to his. But when she opened the box and instead found the necklace, her eyes widened and her jaw fell a bit slack. A few seconds later, her mouth closed and she swallowed hard, carefully lifting the necklace from the box to get a better look at it.

“When you were lookin’ in the window o’ jewelry shop, I knew that necklace had been the one t’ catch your eye,” he quietly laughed. “An’ since you weren’t going t’ get it for yourself, I went an’ got it for you.”

Wearing a tender expression, she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to, Bofur,” she said, voice a bit soft.

“O’ course I didn’t _have_ to. I _wanted_ to.” He scooted a bit closer and, carefully taking the necklace from her, he moved to fasten it around her neck for her. “I mean, how often does a person come across jewelry shaped like a sunflower, hm?” Once it was clasped, he leaned back and smiled as he admired how it seemed to accentuate her loveliness. “It’s the perfect length for you, too—almost like it was made t’ be worn by you.”

Her cheeks burned and a shy smile came to her lips. She looked down at the necklace for a few seconds before leaning forward and hugging him. “Thank you, Bofur,” she murmured, feeling him wrap his arms around her in return.

“You’re welcome, lass,” he replied, his voice just as soft. After letting the hug linger for a few moments, he finally pulled back. “We should probably get back down t’ the kitchen,” he said with a chuckle. “If we don’t get down there soon, I _know_ Gerdi will be comin’ up to see what’s going on.”

“Too late. I’m already up here.”

Baylee squeaked in surprise and Bofur let out a quiet curse as they looked at the doorway. There stood Gerdi, her hands on her hips, Edda strapped to her back, and an amused smile on her lips.

A cheeky grin then came to Bofur’s lips. “Good news: Baylee isn’t sick!” he told his sister-in-law. “She just didn’t want t’ wake up.”

“I can’t say that I blame her,” she smiled. “After entertainin’ the three wee badgers for a good portion o’ the night, _anyone_ would want t’ sleep in the next day.”

Her cheeks still red, Baylee laughed. “No, no, it wasn’t that—this bed is just really comfortable,” she said. “My own bed is fairly comfortable, aye, but this one is softer. The blankets are much softer, too.”

Gerdi nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes—those are the blankets we got imported from the Red Mountains. The cotton they grow over there is exceptionally soft. If they weren’t so expensive, I’d have every bed in the mansion covered in them. Don’t worry about foldin’ them or anything though, dear. I’ll worry about them later.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind folded them up,” she replied.

“I’m quite sure, dear,” she smiled, her tone a bit motherly. “Now, why don’t you come down an’ get a bite to eat? I’m not going to let either o’ you head back to Dale with empty stomachs.”

* * *

“Are you serious? It really destroyed part o’ the bridge?”

“Aye, I’m afraid so, Miss Braddock. I assure you, we’re workin’ t’ get it repaired as quick as we can, but you’ll have t’ go through one o’ the other gates to get into the city.”

Baylee let out a heavy sigh and nodded in acquiesce. After traveling just over two hours, she and Bofur had arrived to find a blockade set up about three hundred yards from the eastern bridge leading into the city. “Alright…Well, thanks for stoppin’ us before we found out the hard way,” she told the soldier, offering him a small smile.

Nodding, the guard turned and headed back to his post.

“So, which gate should we use instead?” Bofur asked, looking up at her. “North or south?” Then, with a teasing grin, he added, “Or maybe west?”

She snorted, her brow rising as she glanced down at him. “South. It’s the closest _an_ ’ it won’t take us near the graveyard,” she replied. As she spoke, she turned Buttercup to the south. “If we go at a trot, it’ll take us about twenty minutes, half that if we go at a canter.”

“I think we’ll be fine if we go by trot,” he said. As Buttercup started to head south, Topaz instinctively followed her, needing no guidance from the dwarf. “It’d also save poor Topaz here a bit o’ embarrassment, since he wouldn’t have t’ get left in Buttercup’s dust.”

“That’s true,” she chuckled. “That’d be just rude, us leaving you two behind like that.”

Bofur looked up at her again, a smile on his lips. “It’s a good thing you’re not a rude person, then. Quite the opposite, really. Which reminds me, Bombur an’ Gerdi were quite amused by how polite you were at dinner.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Unless we’re in the presence o’ someone really important _or_ folk o’ a different race, what you saw last night was typical dwarvish dining etiquette. Better known as ‘Grab what you want t’ eat before someone else takes it’.”

“No wonder you kept pullin’ random plates o’ food over an’ offering them to me,” she laughed.

He nodded, a cheeky grin on his lips. “I just wanted t’ make sure you got everything you wanted t’ eat.”

“Oh, I assure you, I got everythin’ and then some. I don’t think I’ve eaten that much in one sitting since I was little.”

“I believe it,” he chuckled. He turned, reaching back into his saddlebag. “You normally eat like a wee bird, stealin’ little bits o’ food here an’ there throughout the day. Havin’ a big meal like that probably left your stomach confused.”

She laughed. “You’re right about that. What _didn’t_ leave it confused was that delicious cake we had for dessert, though.”

Bofur snickered. “You do know what kind o’ cake that was, don’t you lass?”

“A spice cake with raisins?” she questioned, confusion in her voice. She watched as he pulled a box from his saddlebag as well as a tobacco pouch.

“Close.” He looked up at her, the cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “What you ate last night was a _carrot cake_.” Watching as her eyes widened, he burst out laughing.

“Are you serious!?” she gaped. “That was actually _carrot cake_?”

“Aye!” He continued to laugh as he opened the box; Baylee figured it had his pipe in it. “I _may_ have asked Gerdi t’ make one while we were out…”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head; despite her reaction, she was giggling. “I can’t believe you remembered that I hate carrot cake.”

“ _Most_ carrot cakes,” he corrected. He then nodded at her basket, which Gerdi had, indeed, filled with delicious foods. “If I recall, Gerdi put two slices o’ cake in there—one for you an’ one for Will.”

Baylee let out a _very_ unladylike snort, which made Bofur laugh. “Ooh, Will’s going t’ be the tougher o’ the two o’ us to fool,” she told him. “He hates carrot cake far more than I do.”

“Well, Mister Picky-Palate is about t’ love _one_ carrot cake at the very least,” he chuckled. Then, guiding Topaz a bit closer to Buttercup, he held his hand up to her; in it, he held a long match and pipe that he had already filled with tobacco. “Here you go, lass. It’s my spare pipe, so you don’t have t’ worry about sharin’ the bowl this time around.”

Blinking, she then chuckled and took both from him. “Thank you,” she said. Putting the stem between her teeth, she dragged the match across the wood of her saddle, watching as it sparked into life. She quickly shielded it with her hand and held it to the bowl of the pipe.

Bofur was doing much the same with his own pipe and, soon, he had a mouthful of sweet, cherry-flavored tobacco. As he exhaled, he turned around, shoving the box and pouch of tobacco back into his saddlebag. Then, glancing up at Baylee, he smiled; her eyes were closed and she had an almost blissful look on her face as she slowly exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

“You said your da’ and Will don’t like you smokin’,” he said after a moment. “If that’s the case, then how did you come t’ start smokin’?”

“You can blame that on Bard,” she answered, chuckling. “After his mum passed, he was gathering up belongings he wanted t’ keep while the rest he would sell in order t’ make some money, an’ he found his father’s old pipe. But he didn’t want t’ try it alone, so he tried to get Prim, Will, an’ me to try it with him. Prim and Will declined, but I was curious, so I tried it with him.” She took in a pull of smoke and held it in for a few seconds before speaking again. “Obviously, the first time we tried it, it was absolutely horrible, since we didn’t have any idea about how t’ go about usin’ a pipe. The second time around, though, we went t’ one o’ the village elders an’ asked how t’ go about it, since we didn’t know anyone who smoked. At least, we _thought_ we didn’t know anyone—we didn’t know my aunt smoked, since she did it in secret.”

He snorted, smoke coming out of his nose in a puff. “You know, I wouldn’t have thought Bard t’ be the sort o’ man who enjoys a pipe.”

“He used t’ smoke them once in a while, but once he got married, he stopped. Somethin’ about the smoke made it hard for his late wife t’ breathe, even if he had smoked hours ago.”

“Hm. I’ve never heard o’ that…but, then again, dwarves don’t really get those sorts o’ problems.” Leaning back in the saddle slightly, he peeked up at her again, finding that her eyes were open once more, but the happy expression still on her face. “From all the stories you’ve told me about your younger years, it sounds like you an’ Bard were thick as thieves.”

“That’s because we were.” She lightly shook her head, quietly laughing. “An’ we continued to be well into our adult lives.”

Bofur cocked his head at her wording. “You’re not anymore?”

She shook her head. “No. We’re still close, but…well…” As she sighed, a mouthful of smoke slowly furled from her lips. “Truth be told, Bard and I were in love. He knew it, I knew it, _everyone_ knew it. From what I heard, everyone was convinced we’d end up married. Despite all that, though, for some reason, neither o’ us could muster up the courage to tell the other.” Stealing a look down at him, she saw a frown on his lips. “But…then the War happened. It—it was a dark time for my family.”

“Why? What had happened? Aside from losin’ the original Tankard, I mean.”

Baylee was quiet for a moment. “I…I’m not quite ready to tell you that part,” she told him, her voice soft. She was thankful to see an understanding look come to his features as he nodded.

“Then forget I asked,” he told her, voice gentle. Though he was extremely curious about what had happened, he knew better than to ask. Having gone through his own dark time that he wasn’t ready to tell her about, he knew that she would tell him in time.

Another quiet sigh left her mouth. “Anyway…Durin’ the first three years o’ rebuilding, people were pressurin’ Bard t’ get married so he could make some heirs. As such, he caved in and finally did get married.”

His brows furrowed. “…To someone who wasn’t you.”

She nodded. “Aye. I understand _why_ he did it; I wasn’t in a very good place mentally an’ he didn’t want to put any more stress on my shoulders. But…it still hurt. A _lot_. What made it worse was that I found out through _Prim_ that he had asked Rowena to be his wife.” Shaking her head, she took in another pull and held it for a few seconds. “But, that’s in the past. He’s apologized profusely, I’ve moved on, an’ we’re friends again. As you saw a month or two ago.” Her brow rose slightly when she felt Bofur reach up and take hold of her hand.

“Still. I’m sorry you had t’ go through that, lass,” he told her, his voice gentle. “After that sort o’ betrayal, it’s a wonder you’re not jaded from it. Then again, humans are able t’ heal from heartache better than the other races.” A reassuring smile came to his lips as his thumb lightly rubbed the back of her hand.

“Has anyone ever told you how much o’ a sweetheart you are?” She quietly laughed, her cheeks turning pink.

He feigned a look of thoughtfulness. “Hm, not that I recall…however, I _do_ remember being told how much o’ an ass I am at times. Or how much o’ a drunken fool I am. Both o’ those are used fairly interchangeably.” As she started to giggle, he grinned broadly.

“Well, _I_ don’t think you’re either an ass or a drunken fool,” she replied. “Then again, I have yet t’ see you drunk.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before looking ahead of them only to find that they were crossing the southern bridge. “Oh. Would you look at that: We’re already at the gate.”

Bofur turned his gaze ahead of them as well. “Ah, so we are,” he chuckled. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand so that he could hold Topaz’s reins with both hands. “That didn’t feel like twenty minutes—felt more like five.”

“I’ve heard time can fly when you’re in good company,” she smiled. She, too, had felt a bit hesitant to let go of his hand, but knew it was for the best.

“Oh? Well, then it’s no wonder time flew so fast: I’m in the presence o’ _excellent_ company.” He watched as her cheeks turned a bit pink, which only made him smile more.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them as their steeds took them across the bridge and through the southern gate. Up the gently sloping street they rode; due to it being the lunch hour, the streets were fairly empty. Bofur had never been in this portion of the city before; as such, he looked around with interest.

As their horses rounded a corner, he could see that this block was primarily made up of one blue-and-white-striped building. Looking at its sign, he saw that it was shaped like a chicken with its wings outspread and, painted in bright, yellow letters below were the words ‘The Flying Hen.’ His brow rose; the name was familiar to him.

“Lass, isn’t that the inn you said is owned by your da’s rival?” he questioned, pointing at the building.

Glancing over, Baylee scrunched her nose up. “Aye, that’s Mannus’ place,” she answered, the distaste clear in her voice. “It’d be a fairly nice establishment if it just had a different—”

She was cut off as the door to the inn was suddenly flung open. A burlap sack filled with something was thrown out into the street, startling the horses a bit. The two then watched in horror as a tall, redheaded woman was practically thrown out of the building by a middle-aged man. She fell into the street, a yelp of pain leaving her mouth; Baylee hurriedly dismounted Buttercup with Bofur following suit shortly after.

“How _dare_ you humiliate me like that in front o’ our customers!” the man shouted. “An’ then I find out that you’re whorin’ yourself out to that freakshow o’ a Bra—” He suddenly went quiet as Baylee and Bofur appeared at Adela’s side, helping her to her feet. “Ah, good day, Miss Braddock,” he then said, his voice having changed from angered shouting to calm talking. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw you. I do apologize for you havin’ t’ wit—”

“Shut it, Mannus,” Baylee snapped, the coldness of her words taking Bofur by surprise. She looked back at Adela and gently took her hands; she turned them over to find that her palms were scraped up and starting to bleed. A quiet curse left her mouth. “Stay with her, Bofur,” she quietly told the dwarf.

He nodded, watching as Baylee stormed over to Mannus.

“Just what in the world do you think you’re doin’, throwing Adela out into the street like that?” she demanded. “What could she have possibly done that warrants such treatment, hm?”

Mannus chuckled, an innocent smile coming to his lips; even from where Bofur stood, though, he could see that there was nothing genuine about it. “Miss Braddock, I assure you, she _completely_ deserves it,” he told her. Something about the way he said the words ‘Miss Braddock’ didn’t sit well with Bofur. There was an almost… _lustful_ quality to them. “She’s humiliated me in front o’ my customers by accusin’ me—her own _father—_ o’ taking money from _my own_ establishment—”

“Because you _have_!” Adela cried. “I don’t know where you’re hidin’ it, but I’ve seen you takin’ coins from the register an’ slippin’ them into your pocket when you think no one’s lookin’!”

Mannus took a threatening step forward and pointed a stern finger at her, watching as she shrank back. Baylee, though, didn’t move an inch, keeping him from getting close to Adela. “How _dare_ you continue t’ spread such filthy lies, you wretch! If you think I’m _ever_ going to welcome you back—”

“You’ve been tellin’ the hosts an’ cooks for _months_ that they have t’ take a pay cut because business hasn’t been good when you’re just _stealin’_ their hard-earned pay!” Adela all but shouted.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, given how much o’ a miser you are,” Baylee retorted. Once more, Bofur was left shocked by how cold her voice was; he knew she disliked the man, but he didn’t know just how _much_ she disliked him. “Still, bein’ accused o’ such a thing is not nearly enough t’ warrant treatin’ your daughter like scum.”

“Ah, yes, but I wasn’t finished, Miss Braddock. You see, Adela’s also been wanderin’ off at night, sullyin’ the good family name by whoring herself—”

Adela interjected, “I was _not_ whoring myself—”

“ _Whoring herself_ off t’ some—t’ some immoral scoundrel!” he finished, his tone more than a little accusatory as he glanced at his daughter.

“Oh, so now my brother’s an ‘immoral scoundrel’? What’s changed in the last five minutes that’s made your opinion go from him bein’ a ‘freakshow o’ a Braddock’ to him bein’ an ‘immoral scoundrel’, hm?” She glared up at the man.

“B-Baylee, you don’t need…” Adela started to say, but she quickly fell silent again as Mannus shot her a dark glare. Now that a few minutes had passed, Bofur could see a large, red welt in the shape of a hand forming on her cheek. He stole a look at the door of the inn; there were people peeking out from it as well as the windows, watching the exchange take place.

Mannus shook his head. “Miss Braddock, I can’t expect you t’ understand the full story when you weren’t there t’ witness it, therefore I forgive your displaced anger—”

“I don’t need t’ have witnessed it,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s a whole room o’ people just past that door there that you haven’t had the chance t’ pay off yet. I’m sure a few o’ them would be willin’ t’ tell me what happened.”

A displeased frown came to his lips, though it quickly turned into an amused smirk when he looked down at her. There was an unnerving mixture of delight and desire in his eyes that made Bofur want to run forward and punch him. “Miss Braddock, are you aware o’ just how much you look an’ sound like your mother right now?” he then asked, his tone strangely fond and gentle. His eyes locked with hers and his head tilted somewhat, an almost trance-like look on his face. Unconsciously, his hand rose up and started to reach towards her, but he was brought out of his trance as Baylee smacked his hand away with surprising strength.

“Don’t you touch me,” she snarled. “Y-you have no right t’ talk about my mother,” she scolded. She did her best to hide the fear she suddenly felt; the way he was looking at her in combination with the way he so fondly compared her to her mother greatly disturbed her. “Especially when we’re discussin’ _Adela_.”

“Adela’s no concern o’ mine anymore,” he told her. “She’s no _daughter_ o’ mine anymore. I should have known she’d betray me one day—just like her wretched brother and her pathetic mother.”

“The only pathetic one here is _you_ , Mannus,” Baylee hissed. “Is this you formally declarin’ Adela disowned?”

“O’ course I am,” he said, snapping out of his small trance. He glared past her at Adela, not caring that she had tears streaming down her face or that her skirt was now torn in places. “I have _no_ children.” Turning, he stormed back inside the inn, letting the door slam shut.

Shaking her head, Baylee returned to Adela’s side. “C’mon, love, let’s get you t’ the Tankard,” she said, her voice gentle as she started to lead the taller woman towards her horse. “We’ll get your hands cleaned up an’ get you some tea, alright?”

Adela could only manage a nod, her crying having gotten harder. With some effort, she was able to climb into the saddle; unlike Baylee’s dress, her was flowy enough that she could sit astride rather than aside.

“Here’s her bag, lass,” Bofur said, his voice a bit quiet as he brought over the burlap sack. “I didn’t look inside, but it feels like there’s clothes in it.”

Baylee nodded, taking the bag from him. “Thank you,” she sighed. “I’m sorry you had t’ see all that.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I know I didn’t do much, but I’d rather be here an’ do nothing than not be here an’ find out later that you got hurt or something.” He gave her a small smile, setting his hand on her arm; it was then he came to realize that she was shaking. The smile turned into a concerned frown. “Lass, you’re shakin’ like crazy…”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just my nerves. I hate that man so much…” Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder at Adela. “Bofur, could you do me a favor?”

“You want me t’ go fetch Will from the shop?”

She blinked, surprised that he already knew what she was going to ask. “Aye…I think he’s who she needs most right now.”

“Aye, he is,” he agreed. He reached over, taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll meet you back at the inn as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” she said, a smile coming to her lips.

“It’s no trouble, lass.” He gave her hand a second little squeeze before moving to go mount Topaz.

Going back over to Buttercup, Baylee hauled herself up into the saddle, hooking her knee around the horn once more. It was a bit of a tight fit with Adela; her saddle had been custom-made for her, so it was smaller than most. And with how curvy Adela was, she was admittedly surprised both of them could fit on it at the same time.

“Bofur’s goin’ t’ fetch Will,” she told Adela once Buttercup started to walk. “The shop isn’t too far from the inn, so it shouldn’t take him long t’ get there.”

“Th-thank you, Baylee,” she choked out. She used her sleeve in a futile attempt to wipe the tears from her face. “I’m—I’m sorry you had t’ witness all o’ that.”

“It’s not your fault, love,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her. Rather than take the main road back to the Tankard, Baylee steered Buttercup down a side street. She didn’t want a lot of people to see Adela in this state; they had been extremely lucky that no one had been in the street when Mannus threw her out.

With the streets as empty as they were, Baylee urged Buttercup to go at a fast trot; they were at the Full Tankard within ten minutes. Hearing the clopping of horse hooves, Peter came out of the stable to greet them, though he frowned as he saw Adela.

“Wh-what happened?” he questioned, his brows furrowing. Since Baylee was too short to help, he moved to help Adela down.

“I’ll explain later,” Baylee sighed. “I need to get her inside first.”

He nodded in understanding, taking Buttercup’s lead and guiding her into the stables.

Setting her hand on Adela’s arm, Baylee started to guide her towards the kitchen door. They had just reached the steps when the door opened, startling both of them. Warren stood there, a look of concern on his face and a blanket in hand; he had seen them coming from the front windows and, seeing the state Adela was in, he knew exactly what had happened.

He came down the steps and carefully wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “Come on, lass,” he said, his voice gentle as he took over guiding her. “Let’s get you inside.”

“Her hands got scraped up when she fell,” Baylee told him as she followed them up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Warren nodded in understanding. “I’ll need a bowl o’ warm water with some honey in it as well as a clean cloth,” he instructed. “An’ get her some tea, too. Somethin’ calming.”

“I’ll handle the tea,” Wenna said, already crossing the kitchen to look through the tea tins.

“I’ll get the honey,” Gawen added, heading for the pantry.

A heavy sigh left Baylee’s mouth as she watched Warren and Adela head out of the kitchen through the back way. While part of her wondered how her father was going to react once Will got there, another part of her wondered more about what was going to happen to Adela now. Would her father let her stay at the Tankard? Or, being that Primrose was her cousin, would she go stay with her mother and the rest of her family?

“Baylee? What happened t’ the poor dear?” Galiene questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Rubbing the side of her neck, she let out another sigh. “Mannus disowned her…He literally threw her out o’ the inn an’ into the street.”

Wenna’s jaw fell slack. “Wh-what?” she stammered after a moment. “Why would he do—”

Before she could finish, Primrose, Rosamunde, and Rosalyn came bursting into the kitchen, their faces pale and their eyes wide. Seeing Baylee, they rushed over to her, needing answers.

“What’s wrong with Adela?” Rosalyn demanded.

“An’ why is she here?” Rosamunde questioned.

“Let Baylee breathe,” Primrose gently scolded, though her worry was all too evident in her voice. “She’ll be no good to us if you’re smothering her like this.” She looked back at her friend, seeing that she was a bit paler than normal as well; whether it was from the shock of suddenly having three Lightfoots surrounding her or because of what had happened to their cousin, she didn’t know.

“Mannus disowned her,” Baylee answered. “He literally threw her out o’ the inn and into the street.” As the three women gasped in horror, she continued talking. “He says she humiliated him in front o’ his patrons. I doubt anythin’ happened in front of them, but Adela did say that she caught him stealing from the register box an’ that she called him out on it.” For now, she thought it best to _not_ bring up how Mannus found out about Adela and Will’s rendezvouses.

“Wh-what?!” Primrose yelped, her eyes wide. “But—But she’s the only family he has left! He’s already disowned Ned and got divorced from Aunt Hilda!”

Rosalyn shook her head. “He’s not part o’ the family anymore, so I couldn’t care two licks about him. I’m worried about Adela.” She looked at Baylee. “Can we go see her?”

“I think it’d be best t’ wait a little bit before you do,” Baylee answered. “She’s…she’s quite the wreck right now an’ papa’s got to clean her palms. They got scraped up in her fall.”

Though they didn’t seem entirely pleased by this answer, the sisters nodded in unison.

“How did you find this out?” Rosamunde then asked, brows furrowed. “Did she tell you?”

“…Bofur an’ I witnessed the whole thing, sadly. We had t’ come through the southern gate, since the storm damaged the eastern bridge.” She rubbed the side of her neck again. “I…didn’t really know where t’ take her, which is why she’s here. I thought the Tankard would be the last place Mannus would want t’ come if he wanted to try and yell at her more or something.”

Rosamunde nodded in understanding. “You did well, Baylee,” she sighed. “You’re right. She probably _is_ safest here, even if mother and father have no love for Mannus an’ wouldn’t let him near our home.”

“Once she’s had time t’ calm down, though, one of us should go fetch Aunt Hilda,” Primrose told them. She ran a hand over her hair, sighing. “She’ll want t’ know for certain.”

“I will,” Rosalyn volunteered. “I’m the fastest.”

“Sorry t’ interrupt,” Wenna said, “but the tea and honey water are ready.”

Baylee nodded. “Thanks, Wenna,” she said, a small, tired smile coming to her lips. Excusing herself, she took both the bowl and mug from Wenna before also heading out of the kitchen through the back way. A small frown came to her lips as she walked; she didn’t have a key to the private quarters. ‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have to knock.’

But, she didn’t have to knock. As she rounded the corner, she saw Will fumbling to get his key in the lock. He was breathing heavily and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“D-did you _run_ here, Will?” she frowned.

He looked up, a mixture of anger and worry in his eyes. “O’ course I did,” he said, his attention returning to the lock. “As soon as Bofur told me what happened, I bolted from the shop.” Getting the key into the lock, he hurriedly twisted it around a few times before the familiar ‘clink’ of it unlocking could be heard. Yanking the key back out, he flung open the door and hurried in.

Baylee let out a small squeak and, dashing forward, used her foot to catch the heavy door before it could shut. She then used her hip to push it open a bit wider and slipped inside. Approaching the living room, she could see that Will was on his knees in front of one of the chairs with Adela practically in his lap as she clung onto him. Biting her lower lip, she glanced over at Warren, finding a slight bit of confusion on his face.

Spotting his daughter, he went over to her. “She told me what happened,” he sighed, taking the bowl and tea from her. “I have half a mind t’ go over there right now and hit the git, but I won’t.”

“I…scolded him a fair bit,” Baylee admitted, bringing a small frown to her father’s lips. “I-I know I should have kept my mouth shut an’ just brought her back here, but he made me so mad. I had t’ do _something._ ”

“I’m just glad Bofur was with you. If he wasn’t, I don’t want t’ think about what would have happened.”

“There might’ve been a Stover skewered to my new spear, that’s what,” she grumbled.

His brow rose in amusement; there were very few people in the world that could bring out his daughter’s violent side (not that she had much of one) and Mannus was at the top of that list. Shaking his head, he looked back over at Will and Adela. “So…how long as your brother been secretly seein’ her?” He glanced back at Baylee, a small smile coming to his lips when he saw her shocked expression. “You can’t tell me there’s nothin’ going on between the two o’ them when Will came rushin’ in like that.”

Her cheeks pinked slightly. “T-to be honest, I’m not quite sure,” she admitted. It was the truth—while Will had told her how long he had been courting Adela, she had forgotten how long it was. “I only found out about them recently.”

He nodded slowly. “Well…I’m disappointed he didn’t tell me, but I’m glad she has someone’s shoulder t’ cry on.” Another sigh left his mouth. “I’ll talk to him about it later. An’ later, you’ll tell me how your overnight trip was.” He gave her a small smile only to have his brow rise once more when he saw the necklace around her neck; Baylee wasn’t the sort to buy herself jewelry, which meant it could have come from only one other person.

‘…It seems I’ll need to have a talk with her _and_ Will tonight,’ he told himself.

“I’m goin’ to go get my things from Buttercup,” Baylee then said, drawing him from his thoughts. “Do you want me t’ leave my spear in the stables or is it alright if I bring it in here?”

“Bring it in here, love. Your aunt will want t’ see it.” He turned, moving to go tend to Adela’s hands.

Also turning, Baylee headed back towards the door; before she left, she made sure to grab one of the spare keys, putting it around her neck. Then, leaving the private quarters, she made her way out to the stables only to find Bofur just arriving.

“How’s the lass doin’?” he asked, concern on his face.

“I think she’s doin’ a wee bit better now that Will’s with her,” she told him, watching as he dismounted. “Uncle’s not here, so papa’s going to get her hands cleaned up.”

He nodded in understanding. “Good, good…Poor thing.” Shaking his head, he cursed under his breath. “While I had been curious about how much o’ a git that bloke was, I wish I had found out in a different fashion,” he murmured.

She walked alongside him as he started to lead Topaz into the stables. “Aye…He’s a creep an’ a git.”

“Creep is right. It took a good deal o’ restraint t’ keep myself from pummeling the git into the ground when I saw him try t’ touch your face.” Glancing over at her, his frown grew slightly; she was shaking again—or had she not stopped? “Lass, you alright?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Aye. Just…a lot happened in a short amount o’ time.” She gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You sure? You look like you could use a hug.”

Her smile turned gentle and she softly chuckled. “Whether I felt alright or not, I could always use one o’ your hugs.”

Bofur felt his cheeks flush red, but he smiled and, letting go of Topaz’s lead, he turned towards the lass. As he wrapped his arms around her, she closed her eyes and rested her chin on his shoulder. A quiet sigh of content left his mouth and his hand rose up to rest on the back of her head while the other gently rubbed her back. Despite being a good four inches taller than him, Baylee always felt small in his arms and, because of that— _especially_ after their encounter with Mannus earlier—he wanted nothing more than to protect her.

‘Aulë help me if she chooses Rán over me,’ he thought, daring to turn his head and kiss her temple, ‘because holding her feels so damned _right_ …’

* * *

“When were you plannin’ on telling me about you an’ Adela?”

“Ah…” Will rubbed the back of his neck, his face as red as a beet. “Soon…ish…?” he said, though it was all too obvious he wasn’t actually sure when he had planned to tell his father.

Warren’s brow rose as he looked at his son, who had his arm wrapped around Adela’s shoulders. She was curled up beside him, a blanket draped over her as she slept. “You weren’t plannin’ on telling me any time soon, then.”

Will frowned. “I promise I _was_ going to tell you. I just…I just needed to come up with a way to _gently_ break the news t’ you.”

“Lad, there would have been nothin’ t’ be gentle about.” While his voice was soft, there was also an air of disappointment to it that made Will’s stomach fill with guilt. “Adela isn’t Mannus—I have no problems with her. Never have; I wouldn’t be lettin’ her stay an’ work here if I did.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Will glanced away from Warren. “I’m sorry, da’,” he murmured. “I was just…I was just scared. I love Adela so much and I didn’t want t’ risk possibly losing her or losin’ you.”

Warren nodded slowly in understanding, a sigh leaving his mouth. “Well, now you don’t have t’ worry about either o’ those happening,” he assured him. “You’ve got my blessin’ to _openly_ court her.”

A small grin came to Will’s lips and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Baylee came walking in with a tray of mugs. “Two teas an’ a hot, spiced cider,” she smiled, handing one cup to her father before going over and handing another to Will. The third she took for herself and rested the tray against the side of the couch. With her tea in hand, she went over to her chair and curled up in it.

“How was your stay in Erebor?” Warren asked, amused by how she nestled herself down in the chair. It was a gift from Will from a few years ago, having been custom-made to her size. It had big, soft cushions that she sank down into while also being wide enough that she could bring her legs up and still have room to relax.

Will nodded in agreement. “Aye, I was going t’ ask you about that earlier, but you went straight into workin’ before I got the chance.” There was a mischievous look in his eyes, but Baylee didn’t notice it.

“Quite nice, actually,” she replied, holding her tea in both hands. “There wasn’t much sightseein’, being that a lot o’ the places he wanted to show me were either fully or partially outside, but he did show me around the market quite a bit. An’ when we went to pick up my spear this mornin’, he took me t’ see some glassblowers.” She started to blow across the top of her tea.

“A glassblower?” Warren repeated, brow rising.

“Mhm. He mentioned them to me a few weeks ago while I was putting bread in the oven. I’ve never seen a glassblower, so he told me he’d take me t’ see one someday.” She took a sip of the tea, enjoying the warmth it carried down into her belly.

He nodded in understanding. “An’ where did you end up stayin’ the night?”

“At the Ur mansion. They have plenty o’ guestrooms, so Bofur gave me one that overlooked the storm.” A quiet chuckle left her mouth before her eyes widened. “Oh! You should see the fancy stove Bombur an’ Gerdi have for cookin’! It’s _huge_!”

Will and Warren exchanged amused glances. “Oh?” questioned the former. “We’ve got a huge stove, too, you know.”

“No, no, no—this one was a big metal box with a coal fire inside o’ it to do the heatin’! An’ it had all these different spots on the top for puttin’ pots an’ pans. All those spots also had removable bits, so if you needed the pan or pot t’ get hotter, you just pop off the hot plate an’ put it directly over the heat! It even has a little oven an’ a big ol’ drawer for heatin’ water!”

Warren looked intrigued as he laughed, his brow rising. “How big was it?”

“Theirs looked like it could fit in our kitchen fireplace with just a wee bit o’ room t’ spare,” she answered. “But since it’s got so much space up top, it’s got far more room for cookin’.”

“Sounds a bit dangerous to me,” Will said. He took a drink of his cider. “If it’s a giant metal box with fire in it, it’d be easy t’ burn yourself.”

“Not any more than with our hearth,” Baylee told him. “If anything, it’s safer, since there are no open flames or coals t’ worry about.” She took another sit of her tea, sighing quietly in content.

Warren nodded slowly in understanding, scratching his beard. “Hm. That may be somethin’ to look into,” he admitted. “I know you lasses are always complaining about there not being enough room on that hearth come the busy season…Now, I’m not makin’ any promises. I’m just sayin’ it’s worth looking into.”

She nodded in understanding. “Aye, I know,” she chuckled.

Taking a drink of his cider, Warren shifted slightly in his chair, bringing his feet up to rest on a cushioned stool. “Where’d that shiny trinket on your neck come from, by the way?”

Will’s brow rose as he looked over at his sister in time to see her pick up the pendant. He watched as a fond smile came to her lips and his brow rose; it took a good deal of willpower for him to not start grinning like a fool.

“Bofur got it for me,” she answered, her thumb running over the stones. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? O’ all things t’ find on display…”

Warren and Will exchanged intrigued looks. “Do you know _why_ he got it for you, love?” Warren questioned.

“Well…he said that it was too perfect for me _not_ t’ have,” she answered, her cheeks reddening. “You know, since I love sunflowers so much.” She tried to hide her blush behind her mug by taking a drink of tea.

“Makes sense,” Will said with a small shrug. “Oh, I forgot t’ mention earlier: I really like how you did your hair today.” As he sipped his own tea, he could see her cheeks growing redder. “I’m surprised you put so many braids in. You’re normally the type t’ do _two_ at most. How many did you put in today?”

Baylee cleared her throat. “Ah…they would also be Bofur’s doin’,” she admitted. “I’m not sure how many he put in. Give me a second.” She gathered up her hair and brought it over her shoulder before counting the individual braids. “Nine,” she finally said.

Warren’s eyes widened and he was just barely able to keep himself from choking on his cider. Across from him, Will was quietly snickering to himself while to his left, Baylee was wearing a rather confused look.

“What’s so funny?” she questioned, her brows furrowing. “Look, I know braiding is considered flirtin’ among dwarves, but—”

“What do the braids look like, ‘Lee?” Warren interjected.

She frowned. “I’m…not sure.” Looking down at her hair, she found the plaits of the braids to be short and fat, almost like little hearts. She also noticed that they were the same sort of braid Rán had put in her hair a few days ago. “They look like cute little hearts,” she answered. When she looked back at her father, she found him staring at her in shock. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Bofur put love-knots in your hair,” Will grinned. “They’re a special braid the dwarves use t’ flirt and to let other dwarves know t’ stay away from their person.”

“How do you know about love-knots?” Warren questioned, his brows furrowing.

“The lads explained them to me the other day,” Will answered. “Rán had put six love-knots in her hair an’ Bofur wasn’t too pleased by it.”

Upon hearing this, Baylee’s cheeks turned bright red. “Wh-wh-what?” she stammered. “You mean these aren’t normal braids?!” Looking down at her hair once more, she bit her lower lip as she studied the braids. Now that she knew they were love-knots, their heart shape made sense.

Warren let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his face with his hand. “Love-knots are used by dwarves t’ both flirt an’ mark their territory in a way.” He thought it best to _not_ tell her that the numbers were significant just yet and the look he threw Will signaled him to not tell her either. “So…from the sounds o’ it, Bofur and Rán are both trying to claim you as their own.” His brow then rose, a fatherly expression coming to his face.

“W-well, that I knew,” she murmured, glancing away as she rubbed the side of her neck. “But I didn’t know about the love-knot thing.”

“You…knew those two were fightin’ over you?” Will questioned, his brow rising.

She nodded. “Aye…I’ve known it for a little while now.”

“And you’re not doing anything about it?” Warren asked. “Baylee, you shouldn’t be stringin’ them along like that! That’s incredibly—”

Her lips pursed in a pout as she interrupted him. “I am _not_ stringing anyone alone, papa!” she scolded. “I know they both fancy me. The problem is, I fancy _both_ o’ them.” She then bit her lower lip and looked down into her tea, suddenly feeling small and shy. “I’ve been tryin’ to figure out which lad I like more, but it’s been hard. Especially since they’re both so sweet an’ handsome.”

Warren looked at his daughter pityingly. “I…I didn’t know you had started t’ fancy either o’ them, ‘Lee. I didn’t know you were fancyin’ anyone, to be honest.”

A sigh left her mouth as she sunk down in her chair slightly. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t even really know I was crushin’ on them until recently. It took talkin’ to Prim to figure it out.” She rubbed the side of her neck, her palm quite warm thanks to having held her mug of tea. “But, like I said, I’ve been trying to see who I like more. It’s a wee bit hard, attempting t’ spend equal amounts o’ time with them in order to form any decisions, though.”

“Well, whatever you do, don’t ask for auntie’s opinion,” Will warned.

Both Warren and Baylee frowned. “Aye, that’d be a bad idea,” Warren agreed. “She’d tell you t’ go for the ranger, regardless if you loved him or not. He’s a better pick, societal-wise.”

“But Bofur’s a literal hero o’ Erebor,” his son countered. “How is that not better societal-wise? He personally knows the king, for pity’s sake!”

“Erebor isn’t Dale; their status as heroes doesn’t apply here, so Bofur’s just a simple toymaker. An’ don’t forget how much your aunt despises Thorin an’ his company. If she found out about the lads bein’ part of it…” He shook his head. “I hate t’ say it, but if she _did_ find out about the lads, she may disown Baylee on the spot if she chose Bofur.”

Still frowning, Baylee looked down into her mug and bit her lower lip. She had almost forgotten how much her aunt valued appearances above all else. ‘I’m not going to let her influence my decision, though,’ she thought, sipping her tea. ‘I’m going to pick who my _heart_ wants, not who _society_ wants.’ Shaking her head again, she let out a soft sigh. “I think I’m goin’ to head to bed,” she told Warren and Will. “It’s been a long day.”

The two males nodded in understanding as she slipped out of the chair. “Alright, love. I hope you sleep well,” said Warren.

“G’night, ‘Lee,” Will smiled. “Oh, before you go, I really recommend lookin’ out at the moon. It’s real eerie tonight.”

She smiled, her brow rising. “You can see the moon through all those clouds?”

“They’ve been slowly leaving throughout the day. There are enough, though, that they make the moon look really eerie, but pretty.”

“I’ll be sure t’ look at it then,” she chuckled. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, ‘Lee.”

Walking down the hall towards her room, she took another sip of her tea. She knew it would be awhile before she’d be able to get to sleep; her mind was racing with too many thoughts. Thoughts about Adela and what was going to happen to her now. Thoughts about Mannus and how creepy he had been towards her, even when she was being the epitome of rude. Thoughts about Rán, who she had heard was badly injured but learned it too late to go see him. Thoughts about Bofur and how lovely a time she had had with him; she wouldn’t mind spending another day with him…

Opening the door to her room, she cocked her brow. When she had left the previous day, she had left her curtains shut. But now, the curtains on her south-facing window were thrown wide open. Enough moonlight spilled into the room that she was able to see fairly well and, after a cursory look around, she found that nothing was out of place. However, on her dresser, she did find something new: A little watering can.

She set her tea down on her nightstand before walking over to her dresser and, picking up the watering can, she found it to be filled with water. “Why are you here, I wonder?” she murmured.

Going over to the window, she first peered out of the glass. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. With her brow still raised, she lifted the window open before sticking her head out. Nothing different out—

“Wh-what’s this?” she murmured out loud, looking down at the window box of dwarf sunflowers. The sight of the small flowers almost instantly brought a smile to her lips. “Where did you cuties come from?” Leaning over, she gently ran her fingers over the petals. Her head then tilted when she noticed a something a bit strange hiding among the little flowers. Carefully lifting the thing up, she found it was a soggy piece of paper.

She took some care as she laid it out on her windowsill, not wanting to rip it. Once she had it smoothed out, she saw that it had no words. Instead, there were three little pictures: A sunflower with a smiling face, a happy face with a cheeky grin and part of the face covered in graphite—Will—and another happy face with a large grin, silly hat, and upturned pigtails—Bofur.

Warmth started to fill her chest and she smiled tenderly. “Those sweethearts…”


	20. Chapter 20

“I want Fifika, Seth, and Nakara to search along the southern routes. Kreine, Aizik, Girish—you’re to go east. Hunil and Ashailyn, west.”

“Why aren’t you sending anyone north?” Hunil questioned, his brow raised.

“They wouldn’t come from the north. The terrain is too rough, even for wargs.” Rán let out a quiet sigh as he looked up at his rangers. “Your mission is the same as yesterday. Remember: Even the smallest of finds can prove monumental in the long run. You’re dismissed.”

The rangers nodded and turned, leaving the room—all except for Ashailyn. She looked down at her brother, some worry in her eyes.

“Are you positive you’ll be alright? You’re going to be here all by yourself.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “You have nothing to worry about, ‘Shai. I’ll be in good hands, I’m sure.” He watched as a teasing grin came to his sister’s lips and she opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her before she could get out even a single syllable. “ _Don’t_ make one of your crude jokes.”

A pout came to her lips. “You’re no fun.” Leaning over, she kissed the top of his head. “But that’s what big brothers are for: Being the boring ones.” She chuckled, standing upright. “When I come back from my patrol, is there anything you’d like me to get from the market?”

“Not unless they have a miracle elixir that can heal me overnight.” He glanced past her, looking at the doorway when someone approached. A smile came to his lips; it was Baylee, bearing a tray of food and drink. “Good morning, Lady Baylee,” he said, switching to Westron.

“Good morning,” she replied, also smiling. He could see some worry in her eyes, however. “I’ve your breakfast if you’re ready for it.”

“I am,” he chuckled, beckoning her to come into the room. He glanced up as Ashailyn kissed the top of his head again before taking her leave. “I see you have finally returned from Erebor.”

She quietly chuckled as she set the tray down on the bedside table. “Aye. We got back yesterday afternoon. O’ course, unexpectedly bein’ gone overnight meant I had a lot o’ things t’ catch up on…” She shook her head as she picked up the teapot, filling his cup. “An’ I heard you got a wee bit chewed up while I was gone…though, judgin’ by the amount o’ bandages you’ve got on, Prim greatly underestimated the damage that was done.” There was a small, worried frown on her face as she handed him the cup.

“I assure you, my lady, they look worse than they are,” he told her. Thanking her for the tea, he took the cup and brought it to his face so he could smell it; he was a bit surprised when he discovered that it was his favorite flavor.

Her brow rose. “That’s what they all say,” she told him, a dry laugh leaving her mouth. “Regardless, I’m glad to see you sitting up an’ talkin’. Not many can get chewed on by a warg an’ be so…well, conscious.”

“For that, you can thank my dwarven half,” he smiled. He took a sip of the tea, enjoying the warmth it brought him. “It has made me quite hardy, though not nearly as hardy as a full-blooded dwarf.” Looking up at her, his smile turned a bit tender. “…Do you have to return downstairs right away, my lady?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve actually been asked t’ sit with you while you eat, just in case you needed anything or any help.” Though, she was positive that Ashailyn more or less wanted to make sure she spent some time alone with him.

“Have you?” he chuckled, motioning for her to sit on the bedside. “I suppose my sister does not want me to accidentally spill soup all down my front again.”

Sitting down, she winced at the thought. “Ooh, I hope it had cooled down a bit first, at least.” Doing her best to be subtle, she looked him over. Thanks to his arm being bound to his chest, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, which not only gave her a view of the bruises dotted along his shoulder and parts of his bicep, but also his chest and stomach. Swallowing hard, she turned her attention to her dress, which she adjusted as she crossed her legs.

“Thankfully, it was about room temperature.” His brow rose ever so slightly and a hint of a grin came to his lips; as subtle as Baylee had tried to be, he had still caught her staring at his shirtless torso. Not to mention, her cheeks had turned pink. He pretended to not have noticed, however, and after taking another sip of the tea, he reached over and set it on the table. “How was your trip, by the way? Entertaining, I hope?”

“Very much so,” she smiled. “It was nice, seein’ how much repair work had been done t’ the city since I last visited it a few years ago. It was also much more populated than the last time.” She watched as he grabbed the bowl of porridge and brought it over. Though his right arm was still bound to his chest, he was able to hold the bowl with his hand, allowing him to eat with his left hand. “I also got t’ meet Bofur’s family. They’re very nice…His nieces are convinced I’m just a skinny, hairless dwarf.”

He chuckled, his brow rising; while he didn’t like hearing about Bofur, he was fine with hearing about his family. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, for one, I’m short. Secondly, I know Iglishmêk. An’ thirdly, I know how t’ toss food around like a dwarf.” She lightly shook her head; not having undone her hair since the previous day, some of her braids swung into her face.

Upon seeing the braids, Rán found himself thankful that his face was partially hidden by his hand and spoon. Though he couldn’t see all of them, a quick count told him that there were more than six in her hair and his injuries were the only things keeping him from jumping out of that bed and running off.

He _so_ badly wanted to break a few of Bofur’s bones right then.

Baylee didn’t seem to notice, though, as she tucked one of the braids behind her ear. She did, however, know that Rán was unlikely to actually be enjoying listening to her talk about her trip since it had been with Bofur. As such, she changed the subject. “How did you even get attacked by a warg in the first place?” she questioned.

He, was, indeed, a bit relieved by the topic change. “Fifika, Seth, and I were on our patrol route,” he started, “when we saw what looked to be two bears and three humans in the distance.” Pausing for a moment, he ate a bite of porridge. “This, of course, meant that we needed to investigate. As such, we split up: Fifika came from the west, Seth from the north, and I went in from the east. Of the three of us, I was able to get the closest without being caught—at least, I was not caught for some minutes.”

She frowned, giving him a pitying look. “Did you at least learn anythin’ that made getting attacked the least bit worth it?”

“I did, though it was not very much. The group was made up of what I think were two humans—a male and a female—as well as an orc. The female had to have come from Dorwinion or one of its surrounding territories while the male came from either Dale or Laketown.”

“A bloke from Dale or Laketown?” she repeated, her brows furrowed. “Why would someone from up here be talkin’ with a raider an’ an orc, though?”

“I believe he was making some sort of deal with them. There was talk about delivering something.” He paused again to eat more of his breakfast. “I wish I could have heard more,” he sighed. “At least then, we would have a little more information at our disposal. As it is, we have only that bit of broken conversation and an inscribed kopis.”

Her head tilted somewhat. “What’s a kopis?”

He gave her a curious look. “You have never heard of a kopis?” When she shook her head, he quietly chuckled. “I should not be surprised. It is a type of sword that is fading out of fashion in Dorwinion and its surrounding territories. It is over there on the dresser if you wish to take a look.” As he ate more porridge, he watched as she stood up and rounded the bed to go inspect the sword.

Baylee was surprised by how small and light it was. “This is a _sword_?” she asked with a small chuckle. “It looks and feels more like a long-knife.” The condition of the blade shocked her as well; normally weapons were well cared for, but this one had clearly seen better days.

“Kopis are one-edged swords,” Rán explained. “They are rather good for close-quarters fighting, but are particularly good for mounted combat. Which would explain why it was used by a warg-rider.”

She nodded in understanding, her brows furrowing slightly as she wrapped her hand around the hilt. It was a strange design; it had no guard, but the end of the handle was curved towards the blade, forming a hook. “I’m not sure I like this handgrip, though I can see why it was chosen.” The hooked shape, she knew, would help the wielder keep a hold on the weapon rather than dropping it.

Holding it up to the light, she looked it over one more time. It was then she noticed the runes in the metal, which made her head tilt again.

“Dwarvish runes,” Rán told her, both amused and endeared by her reactions to the blade. “I am afraid I cannot read them; Master Ori, however, was kind enough to translate them for us.” 

“What do they say?”

“I cannot remember exactly, but they are on that piece of paper there.” He nodded at the dresser again. “Essentially, it is a note left by the smith who made the sword—or, at the very least, worked on the sword at some point.” As Baylee set the sword down in favor of grabbing the paper, he started to shift himself so that he was sitting even more upright; it hurt though, and he quietly swore in pain.

She looked back at him, concern on her face. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “I am fine; I needed to change my position is all.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look very comfortable…”

“Admittedly, I am a bit uncomfortable, but it is hard to be comfortable when your arm is not allowed to move.” He chuckled quietly and lightly shook his head.

Setting the paper down, she went back over to his bedside; she didn’t want to spend too long looking at the note anyway, given that it would betray the fact she couldn’t read too well. “If you’d like, I could fetch you another pillow or two,” she told him. “It’d be no trouble, I promise.”

He was quiet for a moment as he thought over her offer; it _would_ be nice to have a bit more cushioning behind him, especially since he currently only had two pillows. But, at the same time, he didn’t want her to leave, since it would cut into their visiting time. His injured shoulder continued to ache as it rested against the wooden headboard, however, making him relent. “I would greatly appreciate that, Lady Baylee.”

“I’ll be right back, then,” she told him, a small smile on her lips. Turning, she left the room.

A heavy sigh left Rán’s mouth and he let his head fall back against the headboard. Setting his half-eaten porridge aside, he rubbed his face in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. ‘I hope she doesn’t find me burdensome,’ he thought. ‘Especially after she spent an entire day around that…that Bofur…’ His brows furrowed slightly as he remembered how she had _nine_ love-knots in her hair. ‘I can’t believe he thinks he can just lay claim to her like that! I, at least, put only six in her hair. I wouldn’t dare put nine in; at least, not until she had officially agreed to—’

His eyes suddenly shot open. ‘No. No, surely the two of them hadn’t…? If they had, Lady Baylee would be a bit more giddy?’ He let his eyes fall shut again. ‘She _would_ be more giddy. Not to mention, I see no rings on her fingers. Just a necklace, but no one proposes with _necklaces_.’ He quietly chuckled to himself. ‘No…he merely did nine braids as a threat to me. It almost worked, too. _Almost_.’

Hearing the creak of the door opening, he opened his eyes and lifted his head in time to see Baylee entering with two plush pillows in hand. “Thank you, Lady Baylee. I greatly appreciate this.”

“It’s no trouble,” she replied with a smile. “Here, let me help you get them in place.” Part of her wondered if she had made the offer with the genuine desire to help him or if some selfish part of her mind wanted to be closer to the ranger. Whatever the reason, she moved closer in order to help tuck the pillows behind him and get him comfortably propped up.

She didn’t quite realize just _how_ much closer she had gotten until he leaned back and she suddenly found his face barely six inches from hers. Her cheeks flushed pink when she realized how little space there was between them, but before she could pull back, Rán’s hand came to rest on her cheek. His palm was warm against her skin and sent a small shiver running down her spine.

“Thank you,” he told her, his voice soft. His thumb tenderly stroked her cheek; her skin was so much softer compared to his. “Has anyone ever mentioned how lovely you are, my lady?” he murmured, his eyes locking with hers. Beneath his palm, her cheek was growing hot as her blush darkened.

“N-no,” she mumbled, suddenly feeling quite nervous and even a bit tense. Was it just her, or was Rán moving closer to her? “I-I’m not really—” But before she could finish speaking, she was silenced when Rán’s lips pressed against hers.

She was struck shocked and dumb for a few seconds before regaining her senses. Shyly, she somewhat tilted her head and started to return the kiss, hoping what she did was alright—this was her first kiss, after all, and she wasn’t _quite_ sure what to do. She did find herself pleasantly surprised that Rán’s stubble didn’t scratch her skin like she expected; instead, it tickled. Being so close to him, she was also able to smell the scent of his citrus-and-vanilla hair oil. It was such a strange scent for a man, she thought, but it suited him. Unconsciously, she set a hand on the mattress and leaned in a bit closer to him so he wouldn’t have to strain himself. Her other hand came to rest on the uninjured side of his chest.

As much as she was enjoying Rán’s kiss, however, a part of her felt guilty. Bofur had been so kind to her by showing her around Erebor and letting her stay in his home for the night—he even bought her a lovely necklace!

And yet, he had only gotten a hug as thanks.

After nearly a minute, Rán pulled back ever so slightly, his eyes half-lidded and a small grin on his lips as he watched Baylee’s eyes open partway as well. His thumb still stroking her cheek, he tilted his head forward and kissed her a second time, letting this one linger for a moment or two. He enjoyed how soft her lips felt against his; with how harsh the northern climate could be, he had been expecting them to be a bit on the rough side.

“I have been longing to know what your kiss feels like,” he breathed when the second kiss came to an end. “And I must say, I was not disappointed.”

“Th-that’s good t’ hear,” she quietly chuckled, a shy smile on her lips. “I w-was hopin’ I wasn’t too bad…”

A curious expression came to his face. “And why would that be, my lady?” His hand pulled away from her cheek only to brush his knuckles against the soft skin a few seconds later.

Baylee felt another shiver run down her spine; though his skin was rough, his touch was so very gentle. “…Th-that was my first kiss.”

His brow rose and his grin turned a bit victorious. “Is that so?” When she nodded, he stole a third kiss from her, though this one lasted only a few seconds. “Then I feel honored to have been your first.”

Half an hour later found Baylee returning downstairs, the tray of dirty dishes in hand. The common room was practically empty; Bofur and Bifur had already gone off to work while Ori and Nori sat at the table, playing a game of dice. A handful of other guests were scattered about, either talking quietly with one another or eating their breakfasts.

As she neared the kitchen, she could see that the Lightfoot sisters had arrived; Wenna had gotten there shortly before she had been requested to sit with Rán. Galiene and Gawen, too, had arrived, with the former already having her nephew prepping vegetables for the later meals.

“Ah, Baylee, there you are!” Wenna chirped. There was a mischievous smile on her lips as she watched her friend carry the dishes over to the sink. “How’s Lord Rán feeling today? Better, I hope.”

She nodded, dunking the dishes into the large bucket of sudsy water. “Aye, he’s feelin’ better. Still not quite strong enough t’ walk, but he’s able t’ shift himself around on his bed as well as eat an’ drink on his own.” Grabbing the washcloth, she picked up the bowl and started to clean it.

“That’s good t’ hear,” Primrose smiled. “It was scary when Lord Seth came dragging him in the other day; he was absolutely covered in blood…We all thought the worst had happened.”

“He was also soakin’ wet, which means even the smallest bit o’ blood could look ten times the amount,” Gawen reminded them, his brow raised.

Wenna pouted. “You weren’t the one who had t’ see him come in like that. You got t’ be back here in the kitchen.”

“He was dripping _blood_ onto the floor!” Rosamunde countered with a pout of her own. “I don’t care if it was bloodied water or entirely blood—it was scary t’ see!”

“Yeah!” Rosalyn agreed as she finished tying on her apron. “You’re used t’ seeing butchered animals and their innards—of course you wouldn’t be as affected as the rest o’ us.”

Galiene snorted. “You lasses are soundin’ like wee schoolgirls all over again,” she told them, shaking her head. “Now why don’t you stop your frettin’ an’ go see if any customers need anything? Lord Rán is alright an’ not bleedin’ all over the floor anymore.”

Rosalyn and Rosamunde nodded before making their way out into the common room.

“Do any o’ you know if Will’s headed off t’ the shop yet, by the way?” Baylee asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Nope, I’m right here!”

Baylee squeaked and dropped the bowl, which she had been rinsing, into the sink as Will came out of the pantry. He had a large, ceramic pot on his shoulder and a cheeky grin on his lips. His sister’s cheeks flushed red as the others quietly laughed at her reaction.

“Here’s the pickled veggies you asked me t’ bring up, Galiene,” he said, setting the pot down on the island. “You’re goin’ t’ want to either make or buy more soon, though—after this, you’ve only got one small pot left.”

The cook nodded in understanding. “Thank you, lad. I much appreciate it.”

He nodded, giving her a smile. “It’s no trouble.” Then, turning towards his sister—who was drying off the bowl by this point—and asked, “Why did you want t’ know if I had left for work yet?”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?” Setting the bowl on the counter, she slipped the towel back on its ring.

“O’ course. I always got time t’ talk t’ my big sister,” he teased as he lightly tousled her hair. His head tilted somewhat as she motioned for him to follow her out into the hallway. “Is something wrong?” he asked her, his voice quieter once they were out of the kitchen.

“No, no—nothing’s wrong, I promise. I just…I need advice an’ I need it from someone who’s been in more than one relationship.” She rubbed the side of her neck; she looked rather confused and nervous.

His brows furrowed, a serious look coming to his face. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able t’ tell you anything helpful.”

She nodded in understanding. “Well…you know how I told you an’ papa that I fancy both Bofur an’ Rán…? An’ how they both fancy me?”

“O’ course. Hard t’ forget when you turned as red as a tomato.”

Her cheeks flushed again and she ever so slightly pouted. “Well…The thing is, I was up with Rán just now, sittin’ with him while he ate breakfast an’ whatnot. An’…uh…” Her cheeks turned even redder now. “He kissed me. A couple o’ times.”

Inwardly, Will began to panic. Outwardly, though, he looked calm as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “He gave you your first kiss, eh? How was it?” He even managed a small chuckle.

“It—it was nice,” she admitted. “ _Very_ nice…”

“So, what advice do you need from me?” he then asked, brow rising. “How t’ gently tell Bofur that he isn’t—”

“No!” she said before he could finish. “No, that’s not it at all.” Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment, her hand beginning to fidget with one of her braids. “While Rán an’ I were kissing…As nice as it was, I couldn’t help but feel guilty.”

“Guilty?” he repeated. Maybe he _didn’t_ need to panic…

“Aye, guilty. I mean, Bofur showed me all over Erebor an’ took me t’ meet his family. He let me stay the night an’ even bought me this gorgeous necklace and—and all he got was a couple o’ hugs.” Her other hand grabbed another braid and started to fidget with it now. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s not like Rán didn’t _deserve_ the kisses—I was worried sick when I heard he was bedridden with injuries an’ got even more so when I saw the extent o’ them. But…at the same time, I can’t help but feel like I might’ve shortchanged Bofur.” As Will started to chuckle, she pouted. “Don’t laugh, Will! I’m bein’ serious!”

“I know, I know, but I’m not laughin’ _at_ you. I’m laughin’ at the situation,” he assured her. “Only you would feel bad ‘bout having two lads chasin’ you an’ you only smooched one o’ them. Most people would say you’ve made your choice.”

“But I _haven’t_! If anythin’, I’m even more torn now than I was an hour ago.”

He looked down at his sister, a pitying smile coming to his lips; he couldn’t blame her for being so confuddled. Before this, the only lad she had ever fancied and vice versa was Bard. “Do you want my honest opinion an’ advice, ‘Lee?”

“I wouldn’t have come t’ you otherwise.”

Sighing, he stood upright and set his hands on her shoulders. “I think it’s perfectly normal for you t’ feel guilty. As you said, you haven’t made your choice yet, so o’ _course_ you’re going t’ feel that way. You care for _both_ o’ them.” He then gave her shoulders a small squeeze. “But I also think you need t’ sit down an’ _seriously_ consider this situation you’re in. Aye, it might feel nice, knowin’ that two blokes are fightin’ over you, but there are three hearts on the line here, ‘Lee. An’ I’m sorry, but you _have_ t’ break one of them to avoid breakin’ all three.”

Slowly, she nodded and let out a quiet sigh.

“Somethin’ to consider when you’re thinking about all o’ this is how you feel when you’re around them. Does one make you happier than the other or feel safer than the other? Maybe you’re less nervous around one than you are around the other. Whatever the case, it’s definitely something you need t’ take into account. They’ve both got dwarf blood in their veins, which means there’s a strong chance you’ll be spendin’ the rest o’ your life with one of them an’ you don’t want t’ be left feeling nervous or whatnot for that whole time.”

Again, she nodded. “Maybe…Maybe when Rán is allowed t’ get up an’ walk around, I’ll see if I can spend a day with him like I spent a day with Bofur. See how I feel after that.”

“That’s a good idea,” he told her, smiling. Though he didn’t want Rán to be the winner of her heart, he did have to admit that it would be fair to give him a day with her. Who knows? Maybe Rán would be the one to learn he didn’t fancy her as much as he thought…? “That’s really all the unbiased advice I can give you, though. If you need more, you might want t’ talk to Adela.”

“Why not Prim or Wenna?”

At that, he snorted. “Baylee, they practically _drool_ over Rán. O’ course they’d want you t’ choose him. Just like the lads an’ I hope you choose Bofur.”

“Y-you hope I choose Bofur…?”

He nodded. “I do. But I’m not goin’ to tell you why. I don’t want t’ influence your decision at all. Which is why, if you need to talk to someone about all this, it needs t’ be someone _unbiased_. And, frankly, off the top o’ my head, the only two I can think of are Adela and Peter. But given how hopeless Peter can be with courtship…”

“Why not papa? Surely, he’s—” When Will shook his head, her brows furrowed. “…So, what you’re tellin’ me is that almost everyone I interact with daily has picked a side?”

“I’m afraid so.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “We can’t help it, ‘Lee. After you an’ Bard…Well, we just want you to be happy, but we all have different opinions on who would do that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Why is fancyin’ someone so damned hard?”

“Because you’re not fancying some _one_. You’re fancying some- _ones_.” Crouching down, he gave his sister a hug. “But I know that, in the end, you’ll have made the right choice.”

A half-hearted smile came to her lips as she hugged him in return; she stood on her tiptoes so he wouldn’t have to crouch as far. “Thanks, Will.”

“Anytime, ‘Lee.” Pulling back from the hug, he smiled down at her. “Now, I think it’s high-time I get t’ work.”

“Before you go—where is Adela?”

“She’s with da’, discussing the terms and rules o’ her staying here,” he answered. “He’ll be having you show her where everything is later, so be prepared for that.”

“That won’t be hard. I’ve already done it once this week.”

Some relief swept through him when he saw her smile. “If we get anymore new hires, we may as well make you the inn’s official tour guide,” he joked.

“Oh, very funny,” she said, her brow rising in amusement. As she watched him walk down the hall, she shook her head and, under her breath, muttered, “…Arsemunch.”

Unbeknownst to the siblings, their conversation had been almost entirely overheard. Under the guise that they were washing some dishes for Galiene and Gawen, Wenna and Primrose stood near the doorway, their heads ever so slightly cocked as they were able to hear the exchange taking place just a yard or two away. When Baylee mentioned that she and Rán had kissed, the two had quickly clapped their hands over each other’s mouths to keep themselves from squealing in delight. But it was when Baylee spoke of possibly spending a day with the ranger, they looked at one another knowingly.

“I know her better,” Primrose whispered. “I’ll let Rán know what sorts of things she likes and places around town she likes to visit.”

“Don’t forget that they both know how t’ ride. If he’s well enough by then, they could go out an’ spend the day riding. Then it could be a picnic,” Wenna added. She then let out a quiet giggle as she scrubbed the inside of a cup. “An’, being away from a bunch o’ prying eyes, they could also do a wee bit o’ necking.” She giggled again as Primrose lightly hit her with the dishtowel.

“Wenna!” she whispered scoldingly. “We want Baylee to realize that she _loves_ Rán, _not_ that she wants to get a bit frisky with him!”

Wenna pouted. “She could do both!”

“Baylee is _not_ the sort o’ lass who would get frisky with someone’s she’s not even officially courting and you know it.” Shaking her head, she let out a sigh and started to dry off the cup Wenna handed her. “No. This is a delicate situation that needs handled with a great amount of care. You heard her; she feels guilty about not kissing Bofur. That means her heart’s startin’ to lean towards him.”

Washing a bowl now, Wenna cocked her brow. “As much as I’d like for her t’ end up with Rán, is it really so bad if she an’ Bofur end up together?”

“Yes!” She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead in exasperation. “You know how her aunt is! Everything is about appearances and Rán is the better choice when it comes t’ that. Not t’ mention…” She glanced around to make sure no one was around to hear her. “Bofur and the lads were part of Thorin’s company.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “ _Oh_ …that _is_ bad,” she murmured.

Primrose nodded. “If she were to find out about that while Baylee and Bofur were courtin’, it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be good _at all_.” A sigh left her mouth. “So yes, we need to make sure Baylee ends up falling for Rán. I’ll take his next meal up to him an’ give him some ideas of how t’ best woo her. That’ll give him a definite leg up over Bofur.”

* * *

“Thanks again for comin’ with us t’ get this vegetable order, Ori.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble! I needed the break from sketching anyway.” He smiled up at Baylee. “Not to mention, it’s a nice, sunny day. It’s good t’ get out an’ walk around a bit.”

“Aye, I’ll agree with that,” Baylee chuckled, pushing some hair over her shoulder. She looked up towards the sky; it was a vast ocean of blue with not a cloud in sight. “Makes me wish I was out ridin’, though.”

There was a laugh on her right and she looked over to see Adela wearing a knowing grin. “You _always_ wish you could be out riding, though.” A few days had passed since she had started working at the Tankard and the welt was no longer visible on her face.

A cheeky grin came to Baylee’s lips. “Not _always_. Sometimes, I wish I was curled up in bed, sleepin’ in a few extra hours.”

Nodding in acquiesce, Ori chuckled. “Sleepin’ in once in a while does feel nice,” he agreed. “I get t’ do it more often now that I’m here in Dale. Back in Erebor, Dori would always wake me up around the time the sun rose.” He shook his head. “Nori, though…Nori just lets me sleep. He does make sure to check on me if I’m not up by noon, though.”

“It’s nice, gettin’ to have an extra hour of sleep,” Adela smiled. “At my fa—At _Mannus’_ inn, I’d have t’ be up before dawn in order t’ get all the baked goods ready for the day.” Shaking her head, she then let out a soft sigh. “But, I was also the only one who made the baked goods. At the Tankard, it’s Galiene who makes a good portion o’ the desserts while ‘Lee here handles the breads.”

Baylee chuckled, rubbing the side of her neck; she knew it still hurt Adela to call Mannus by his proper name instead of ‘father’ or ‘dad’. “I also make the breads in large batches. I think one batch o’ fruit bread comes out t’ about six loaves…? Sometimes six an’ a half.”

Ori’s brow rose. “And a half? What do you do with the half loaf?”

“It usually gets nibbled on by the staff.”

“That makes sense.” He looked up as they rounded a corner, now heading down a quiet side street rather than the main thoroughfare. “So…where is it we’re going again?”

“T’ Tamás Sawyer’s place,” Baylee answered. “He’s got the biggest an’ best market garden in Dale. Whenever Galiene needs a lot o’ fruits an’ veggies for some special occasion, she uses his produce. An’ since it’ll be a prince who’s coming the day after tomorrow, she wants everything t’ be _extra_ special.”

“I just hope she doesn’t overwork herself,” he admitted with a small, nervous laugh. “Aye, Fili’s the crown prince an’ all, but he’s just like the rest o’ us lads. The only real difference is that his speech is a little more refined than ours.”

Adela leaned forward so she could look at Ori. “You _know_ Prince Fili?”

“Oh, aye! Along with Kili, he’s one o’ my best friends.” The dwarf wore a broad smile.

“Don’t let auntie know, but the lads were part o’ Thorin’s company,” Baylee explained when Adela still looked a bit confused. “An’ that’s how they know the royal family.”

She nodded in understanding. “Ahh, that makes sense. How big o’ an entourage will he have?”

“Just Dwalin—ah, he’s the captain o’ the guard for the palace. Not that the palace needs many guards. The entire royal family is made up o’ seasoned warriors who are more than capable o’ defending themselves.”

“Even Lady Dis?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes, of course! Though, she’s much like Baylee in that, while she knows how to fight, she doesn’t really like t’ do it.”

“She’d probably be a lot more intimidating during battle than me,” Baylee snorted.

Ori cracked up at that. “No offense, Baylee, but I don’t think you could look intimidatin’ if you tried.”

“Which I’m perfectly fine with,” she smiled. “I’d rather be chirpy than scary.”

“Actually…” Adela bit her lower lip slightly. “When you were yellin’ at Mannus, you…you were quite threatening. But I think that’s because you were tryin’ to protect me. Even though you don’t know me too well just yet.”

Baylee felt her cheeks start to heat up. “I had t’ do _somethin’_ , though. I couldn’t just let him bully you like that.” She looked up at the other woman. “Especially when you make my brother so damned happy.” A small chuckle left her mouth.

“Sounds like Baylee’s got a bit o’ a mama bear side,” Ori smiled. “A very, _very_ small mama bear, but one nonetheless.” He suddenly blinked and looked around them when he noticed that they were no longer surrounded by buildings. Ahead of them was a gentle slope leading down towards a few houses. While all of them had rather large gardens, one house had a garden that was thrice as large as the other two—from the looks of it, it even had some fruit trees. “Ah, I take it that’s the farm we’re headin’ to?” he asked, pointing at it.

“You would be correct,” Adela answered. “It looks like it’s gone an’ doubled in size since I last saw it.”

“If you last saw it two years ago, then it _has_ doubled in size,” Baylee explained. “Tamás bought the property next t’ his, tore down the wall, an’ turn the house into a greenhouse.”

Ori frowned; the smaller of the two houses had a roof and large windows made of glass. None of it, however, looked very green to him. “You mean that smaller house there?” Baylee nodded. “It doesn’t look very green.” His cheeks turned a bit pink when he heard the two lasses quietly giggle.

“A greenhouse is a buildin’ used t’ grow plants out o’ season,” Adela said. “It can also be used t’ sprout certain plants before you put them in the ground outside.”

“How does _that_ work?” he questioned, his confusion evident.

“Somethin’ about the glass bein’ able t’ let in a lot o’ sunlight while also keepin’ the room relatively warm?” Adela shrugged. “I’m not quite sure, t’ be honest.”

“I’m just as clueless,” Baylee admitted. “Maybe Wenna would know, though?”

“She might. You did say her family owns a farm outside the city.” He rubbed his arm slightly as he looked back at the property. There was so much color in such a small space…He had seen gardens before—Bombur and Gerdi had one, as a matter of fact—but they had never been anything _that_ big and colorful.

Baylee glanced down at Ori, smiling when she saw the awe on his face. ‘I think I know where he might come for his next set of drawings,’ she thought. ‘And I’m sure they’ll look just as lovely as the real thing.’

After nearly twenty minutes, the trio was walking under an archway formed by the intertwined branches of two fruit trees: One pear and one apple. Hanging from the branches was a wooden sign that read ‘Sawyer Gardens’.

“Oh, how I love this place,” Baylee murmured. As she looked around, she smiled broadly; everywhere she looked, there was something growing. Flowers, berry bushes, vegetable patches, fruit trees…Off to one side, there were three boxes that gave off a quiet buzzing sound—artificial beehives.

Ori glanced at her, finding her face to be akin to a dwarrowling in Bofur and Bifur’s old toyshop. He quietly chuckled before continuing to look around himself.

“It smells so wonderful here,” Adela sighed. “It’s so fresh an’ sweet. I wish there was a way t’ turn this scent into a perfume.”

“It needs just a hint more o’ cherries, but other than that, aye, I agree,” Baylee smiled.

“Why cherries?” Adela questioned, her brow rising as they started to follow a gravel path towards the backyard.

Baylee shrugged. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I’ve just really been enjoying the scent o’ cherries lately.”

Ori, however, had a feeling he knew why she liked the scent so much, though he wouldn’t say it out loud. ‘It’s because of Bofur’s tobacco,’ he instead thought.

“Ah, Miss Braddock! I’ve been expectin’ you.” A man around Warren’s age with jet-black hair had appeared from behind a large bush. “And I’m glad t’ see you’ve brought help with you. I’m afraid you’ll need it—Galiene place quite the hefty order!” He gave both Adela and Ori polite nods.

“I believe it,” Baylee chuckled. “When it comes t’ making feasts, she does not skimp on the portion sizes.”

Tamás motioned for the three of them to follow him. “I hear tell she’s going t’ be making one o’ her famous whole-roasted hogs.”

“You heard right. In fact, Halfast’s delivering it today,” Adela answered.

The man glanced over his shoulder. “Any particular reason why she’s doin’ one o’ her hogs? Or is it a secret we non-inn owners aren’t allowed in on?” he asked with a chuckle.

Baylee quietly laughed. “We’ll be playin’ host t’ royalty and some royal meetings.”

“Ooh, so _that’s_ where those meetings about raiders are happenin’!” He nodded in understanding before looking back at the path ahead. “I was wonderin’ if Bard was going t’ have those in his hall or not. I’m surprised he’s not lettin’ the prince stay in the hall, though. Surely stayin’ with another member o’ royalty is more befittin’ his status?”

“Fili insisted on stayin’ at an inn,” Ori pipped up. “Though they’re royalty, the royal family o’ Erebor prefers t’ stay an’ eat amongst normal people when they travel. It helps them get t’ know the citizens better. An’, if they’re in a place with a new culture, it helps them better learn the culture as well.”

Tamás looked impressed by this answer. “Well, that’s somethin’ you don’t hear about very often—at least, with human kings an’ queens.” He chuckled, lightly shaking his head; just a few yards in front of them was a wheelbarrow that was filled to the brim with vegetables. “I hope you lot have enough baskets.”

Adela looked between the three of them, her brow rising slightly. Ori had two large baskets while she and Baylee each had two medium-sized baskets. “We’ve got six decent sized ones, so I think we’ll be good.”

It ended up being just _barely_ enough baskets to carry everything. Ori’s baskets were filled with cabbage, lettuce, two jars of honey, and potatoes; Adela’s baskets had carrots, turnips, and spinach; and Baylee’s had rhubarb, fennel, strawberries, sprouts, and asparagus. After paying Tamás, they started to head back.

“This…is a lot of different vegetables,” Ori said, his eyes a bit wide in awe. “Is Miss Galiene really going t’ use _all_ o’ these in the meal she an’ Gawen are going to be cooking for Fili?”

“Mm…Probably not, admittedly,” Baylee chuckled. “I know for a fact that the rhubarb an’ strawberries are for Adela.”

“Aye. I’ll be makin’ plenty o’ strawberry-rhubarb pies an’ crisps t’ last us a while,” Adela smiled. “At least, judgin’ by that one basket o’ Baylee’s that’s almost nothin’ _but_ strawberries.”

“I…don’t think I’ve ever heard o’ that combination for a dessert before,” Ori admitted. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard o’ rhubarb bein’ used in cooking aside from the chicken braised with rhubarb Gerdi sometimes makes.”

The two women looked at him in a mixture of confusion and awe. “Really?” Baylee questioned. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard o’ it being used for anythin’ other than desserts.”

“I wouldn’t have expected it t’ be good for desserts, given how tart it can be.”

“That’s exactly _why_ it’s so good in desserts,” Adela grinned. “Especially with strawberries. The tartness o’ the rhubarb is mellowed out by the sweetness o’ the strawberries, but its tartness also helps bring out the flavor o’ the berries.” She blew a stray lock of hair from her face. “It sounds a bit odd, aye, but when you taste it, you’ll understand, I promise.”

“Hmm…I suppose if it means gettin’ to eat tasty desserts, I can’t complain too much,” he grinned.

Upon returning to the inn, the three were greeted by the sight of large, whole hog being unloaded from a cart. It was nearly as long as Baylee was tall and, more than likely, weighed twice as much as her. Galiene stood nearby, her eyes fixed on the hog as it was carried by two men.

“Right into the kitchen, lads,” she told them. “I’ve cleared a space for it on the counter—it’s impossible t’ miss. Mind the step, too! Don’t need you lads trippin’ an’ falling.” She brushed some hair from her face before catching sight of Adela, Baylee, and Ori entering the courtyard. “Ah, there you three are!” She wore a thankful smile as they came near. “Did you get all the vegetables?”

Baylee nodded, holding up her two baskets. “Aye. Even got the two jars o’ honey.”

“Though, that was almost forgotten. Baylee had t’ run back an’ grab them,” Ori grinned. As he glanced up at her, he saw her cheeks turn a bit pink.

Galiene laughed, her brow rising slightly. “So long as she remembered before it was too late! I’ve just finished preparing your lunches about seven minutes ago, by the way, so I hope you lot are hungry.” She then looked at Baylee, her smile turning a bit more teasing. “Though, ‘Lee, love, a certain someone requested you dine with him, so your meals are on a tray, ready t’ take up.”

Her cheeks turning a bit pinker, she nodded in understanding. “Alright. Thank you for lettin’ me know.”

A small frown came to Ori’s face. ‘Rán’s been requesting she dine with him quite a bit over the last few days…I get that he’s probably lonely, but why can’t he request one of the other lasses to dine with him for once?’ he thought. He stole a look up at her, quietly sighing. ‘Aulë—or should it be Yavanna I ask? Maybe even Nienna? _One_ of you Vala—please don’t let her fall for Rán over Bofur…Bofur doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak.’

When the butchers left the kitchen, the dwarf and two humans entered. There, on the center of the island, was the pig; Galiene stood beside it, starting to roll her sleeves up past her elbows. There was a broad grin on her lips and a determined look in her eyes.

“Ooh, do I get t’ learn the secret about how you get the skin so crisp now?” Adela asked jokingly as she set her baskets on the counter.

“Perhaps you do, lass—but only if you wash up an’ help me. An’ that’s _after_ you’ve eaten your lunch.”

Grinning, Adela hurriedly grabbed one of the plates of food near the hearth and hurried out to the common room to devour her lunch.

Baylee snorted at her reaction and shook her head, also setting her baskets on the counter. “Galiene can get the skin so crisp, it’s like a cracker,” she explained to Ori. “It’s _so_ delicious! There was one time she crumbled the leftover skin into bacon an’ potato soup instead o’ bacon and it was _heavenly_.” Spotting the tray of food meant for her and Rán near the hearth, she went over to it.

“Oh, one more thing before you go, lass,” Galiene said, looking over at her as she used her hand to stir the contents of a bowl. “He said t’ tell you that he’ll be out second floor deck.”

Her brow rose. “I see Seth finally allowed him t’ get up out o’ bed.” Plucking the platter up, she headed out of the kitchen. She waved at the Lightfoots and Wenna as she made her way towards the stairs, her cheeks growing even darker when they started to knowingly giggle.

‘Of _course_ , they know he requested I dine with him,’ she thought, biting her lip and starting to ascend the stairs. ‘At least he can get out of bed without assistance now…That’s a good sign. He’s been getting quite antsy, being stuck in bed all day. Or, rather, pacing around his room and climbing back into bed before Seth knows he was up.’

When she reached and opened the door of the second-floor balcony, she was greeted by the sight of Rán standing at the southern railing, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the light breeze and warm sunlight. Baylee could see that he was fully dressed and his arm was no longer bound to his chest. Instead, it was hanging against his chest in a sling.

She shut the door behind her and he turned, a warm smile on his lips. “Hello, Lady Baylee. I trust that your errands in town went well?”

“Aye,” she replied, carrying the tray over to a small table. Normally, the table was tucked against the wall of the privy so it would be out of the way, but Rán had moved it to be near the middle of the eastern railing. “We didn’t have to do much; just pick up a bunch o’ vegetables an’ some honey for Galiene.”

“She has been quite busy these past two days,” he commented. “Does the prince’s arrival the day after tomorrow worry her that much?” He started to walk towards her.

“Not so much worry her, no.” She quietly laughed, beginning to unload the tray’s contents onto the tabletop. “She doesn’t often get t’ make feast foods an’ they’re some o’ her favorite meals t’ make. An’ since most o’ Dale knows by now that Fili will be stayin’ here, she’s expectin’ quite the crowd.”

A small frown came to his lips. “If the whole of Dale knows the crown prince of Erebor is to be staying here, will King Bard provide more security?” he questioned. “Or will the prince have an entourage of guards with him?”

She shook her head. “From what I hear, he’ll just have the captain o’ the guard with him. _But_ he’s also got Ori an’ Nori here. Also Bifur an’ Bofur when they’re not at the shop.”

He nodded slowly, watching her with a somewhat tilted head. “Curious that such an important figure would have so few guards with him. Does he not fear an assassination attempt?”

“I don’t know if there’s anybody who wants him dead, t’ be honest.”

“He is prince, my lady. I am afraid that there is _always_ an illicit bounty on the heads of royalty.” He shook his head and let out a soft sigh. “But I pray that you are correct. I have seen King Bard walk among his people with no guards and he was unscathed; I can only hope the same will happen with Prince Fili.”

When Baylee stood up and turned to face him, she let out a soft squeak when she found him barely two feet from her. She was thankful that she had propped the tray against the railing, as Rán slipped his good arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Her hands instinctively came to rest on his chest; his injured arm reached up and gently lifted her chin.

“Let us talk of happier subjects,” he murmured, his thumb reaching up to brush against her lower lip. He smiled, watching her cheeks turn red.

“S-such as Seth finally lettin’ you out of bed?” she replied with a small chuckle. This wasn’t the first time he had held her so close; he had done it many times over the last four days while also stealing plenty of kisses from her.

As much as she did enjoy the physical affection, however, she was always left with the same, lingering feeling of guilt as when he had first kissed her.

A soft laugh left his mouth. “Yes…though, I believe it was more my complaining than my injuries being on the mend that finally made him relent.” Moving his thumb, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her eyes drifted shut as she returned the kiss. To her surprise and embarrassment, it abruptly ended when her stomach made a loud, hungry sound. Her cheeks turned beet red as Rán leaned back slightly, looking both shocked and impressed.

“I believe we should eat,” he chuckled, his brow rising. “You must truly be starving if your stomach was able to make such a loud noise.”

“I suppose so,” she chuckled, rubbing the side of her neck. “Then again, I did haul quite the load o’ veggies all the way from across the city. That’d work an appetite up in anyone’s stomach.”

“It most certainly would.” He stole a second kiss from her before reluctantly letting go of her. “What sorts of vegetables did Lady Galiene have you get?” As he spoke, he went over and pulled her chair out for her.

“Oh, all sorts. Turnips, cabbages, carrots, sprouts, spinach, potatoes…good vegetables for roasting. As well as a lot o’ strawberries an’ rhubarb for pies an’ crisps.” She tucked her tunic under her as she sat down, thanking him.

At the mention of pie, he seemed to perk. “There will be strawberry-rhubarb pie?” he questioned, sitting down across from her.

She nodded. “Aye. It’s one o’ Adela’s specialties.” Looking down at her plate of food, she found it to be filled with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy along with a small bowl of rolls—more of a dinner than a lunch, but she didn’t mind.

“Well, normally I am looking forward to the desserts made here, but now I am even more eager,” he chuckled. “Strawberry-rhubarb pie is my favorite dessert. Though, I have never tried it in a crisp before.”

“You also haven’t had crumbles or crisps before you came up here,” she reminded him with a small chuckle. “I actually prefer the crisp version t’ the pie.” She started to cut up her chicken breast; Galiene had made sure to leave the skin on, letting it get nice and crispy.

Rán tilted his head slightly as he chewed a bit of his chicken. “Why is that?” he asked after swallowing. He popped a bite of potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

She shrugged. “I just like the way the oats go with it more than crust, I suppose. It also has bit more spices with it—at least, when Adela makes it, it does.” Dipping a bite of chicken into her gravy, she popped it into her mouth.

“What sorts of spices? Or does she keep it secret?”

“I’m not sure, t’ be honest. But it’s not because she keeps it secret; it’s because her git o’ a dad wouldn’t let her give away any recipes when she still worked for him.”

His brow rose, a bit of a frown coming to his lips. “What, exactly, transpired that led to her staying and working here, if you do not mind my asking? There was only so much Ashailyn and the others were able to tell me.”

“Essentially, what happened was that she caught Mannus—her father—stealin’ from his own register box an’ called him out on it. In turn, he called _her_ out for runnin’ off at night to secretly meet up with my brother. Only, he also humiliated her an’ made it seem like everything was her fault.” She shook her head as she ate more chicken. “Mannus is a right piece o’ shit.”

He was a bit taken aback by her use of the curse word; the worst word he had heard her use was ‘damned’. “If he is able to bring out such a reaction from you, he must be a foul person.”

“Aye…But, thankfully, Adela doesn’t have t’ endure his abuse anymore _an’_ she gets t’ openly be with Will now.” She started to mix her gravy into her potatoes. “Mannus an’ my da’ have a bit o’ a history,” she added, “an’ it’s not a very good one. Thus our family’s hatred o’ him.” She thought it best to just leave it at that; she didn’t want to lose her appetite talking about him.

Rán nodded in understanding. “I had been wondering if he had done anything to warrant such distaste from you.” He grabbed one of the rolls and tore it in half, dipping it into the juices that had accumulated beneath his chicken. “After all, you are normally such a friendly and caring woman.”

Her cheeks turned a bit pink and she chuckled. “It does take quite a bit t’ make me hate someone,” she agreed. “But, as you said earlier, let’s talk about happier subjects.”

“I agree. Which, reminds me: I have been meaning to ask you something.”

She glanced up at him, chewing a bite of chicken.

“I was wondering if in a couple days, perhaps, I could…possibly steal you away for a few hours?” There was a bit of a hopeful lilt to his voice and a small, almost shy, smile on his lips.

Admittedly taken a bit aback by the question, Baylee blinked in surprise. “I’d have t’ ask Galiene,” she said, grabbing a roll for herself. “Understandably, I wouldn’t be able t’ join you for at least the next three days.”

He nodded. “Of course. The inn and its kitchen are going to be quite busy and I would not want to take away one of its main hostesses. I was thinking, perhaps, a few days after the prince’s arrival? That would allow things to calm down a bit—or rather, I _hope_ it will allow them to calm down a bit.”

“Hard t’ say,” she smiled, her brow rising. “If there’s going t’ be a prince here, it’s goin’ t’ be busy. Not t’ mention, we’ve already had an increase in customers, given that the warm seasons are upon us. But…I’m sure Galiene will let me out for a few hours, especially if auntie’s well enough t’ sit in the kitchen an’ cut up vegetables.”

A smile came to his lips and he quietly laughed. “Well, then I wish even harder for your aunt to have a speedy recovery.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something tells me that a lot of you are going to be really happy with this chapter, and not just because Fili finally shows up again ;)

"Oh, it smells _amazin'_ in here!"

Baylee looked up from kneading dough and Adela looked up from hulling strawberries only to find Bofur poking his head into the kitchen. Both smiled at him, though it was Baylee who greeted him.

"Mornin', Bofur," she chirped. She sounded just a touch breathless thanks to her kneading. "Kettle's almost ready for you."

"Thank you, lass," he grinned, coming into the kitchen. "I see you two are hard at work, preppin' for Fili's arrival later." He made his way over to the shelf of mugs. "What all are you makin'?"

"Baylee's workin' on various breads," Adela answered, "while I'll be makin' strawberry-rhubarb pies an' crisps."

"Well, if I wasn't hungry before comin' in here, I am now." He wore a cheeky grin before he hopped onto the counter. "Either o' you lasses want some tea?" He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled down his usual cup; his grin faded slightly when he noticed the dark circles under Baylee's eyes. 'Did she have a nightmare again?' he thought.

Adela shook her head. "No, thank you. I've got some cider."

"I'll take some," Baylee said, dropping the ball of dough into a large bowl.

"What flavor would you like?" Grabbing a second mug, he slid off the counter and back onto the floor.

Wiping her hands off on a towel tucked into her apron, she thought for a moment. "How about some o' that lemon-ginger tea Gerdi gave me?" She watched as he walked over to the tea tin shelf and once more hopped onto the counter so he could reach the shelf.

"Comin' right up." He grabbed the tin of lemon-ginger as well as a tin of a different citrus tea. "After I make these, do either o' you need help with anythin'?" Normally, he'd expect the usual answer of 'no thank you', but something told him today might be a bit different.

"Hmm…Not right yet, but I might need help cuttin' up all this fruit in a wee bit," Adela said. She then glanced over at Baylee. "Will you be handlin' breakfast, or should I get a start on it?"

"I'll get a start on it since I've got all my dough made," she replied. Using the back of her hand, she covered her mouth as she yawned. "I was going t' do griddlecakes with sausage an' bacon. Somethin' easy."

"That still sounds yummy," Adela smiled. She glanced over at her; she had also noticed how tired Baylee looked, but she figured it was just from waking up so early. "You can use some o' my strawberries to make some fruit syrup, if you'd like. Yavanna knows I've got enough."

"Ooh, I may take you up on that!" Baylee grinned. "First, though, I've got t' bring in some more water."

"I can help you with that, lass," Bofur said, bringing her tea over to her. "After kneadin' all that dough, I'm sure your arms feel at least a wee bit wobbly, after all." It would also give him a chance to ask her about her exhaustion.

She gave him a thankful smile as she took the mug from him. "You're not wrong," she chuckled. A shiver ran through her body as the warmth seeped through the clay and into her palms. "What you're seein' out here isn't even all o' it. Right now, I've some large loaves goin' in the oven that Galiene plans on usin' as bowls for tomorrow's dinner an' I've got the cranberry-orange breads coolin' off in the pantry."

"Why the pantry?" Adela questioned, her brow rising.

A cheeky grin came to her lips. "Because I want t' make sure they don't all get eaten up before Fili gets here."

"You might want t' get your da' or Will t' put the loaves on the top shelves, then," Bofur joked, "because once he hears that you made him a lot o' the stuff, he'll be tryin' t' eat it by the loaf."

Both women cracked up. "You make him sound more like an excitable child than a crown prince," Adela giggled.

"He's only ninety-two, so he's still a bit on the young side," Bofur explained with a grin. "An' he can act quite childish at times. So can Kili for that matter. You'd think with havin' Thorin for their uncle, they'd be a wee bit more mature by now."

Baylee snorted, her brow rising. "Maybe that's why they _haven't_ matured—they want t' rebel against Thorin's sternness?" She took a small sip from her tea before setting it down on the island.

He quietly laughed. "That could be. But, from what I remember, their father was quite the mischievous bloke, too, so they might get it from him." He looked over in time to see Baylee picking up the water buckets; setting down his own mug, he went over and took one of them from her. He tried to take the other, but she playfully shooed his hand away and he teasingly stuck his tongue out at her.

"Be right back," she then told Adela.

"Alright. Take care t' not fall into that hole your da' dug last night."

"Hole?" Bofur questioned, his brow rising. He opened the door, letting Baylee step outside first.

"Aye. Galiene's going t' be roasting the hog in the ground, so papa had t' dig a hole big enough t' cover it.

Closing the door behind him, Bofur looked around for any sign of a hole. It didn't take long for him to find; it was immediately to his left, about a yard from the wall. To make it safer, Warren had built the dirt up around the hole and laid some boards across the piles. "… _That_ is a large hole."

"Galiene got a large hog," she giggled, her brow rising. "It's longer than me an' weighs probably twice as much."

His brow rose in amusement. "Did he have you lay down on the ground so he could get somewhat o' a measurement for the hole?" he joked.

She burst into a fit of giggles. "That's actually _exactly_ what he did!"

"Are you serious?" he laughed, not sure if she was being honest with all those giggles.

"I am! I was in the middle o' servin' Nori an' Ori their lunch yesterday when he called me out here. He had me lay down an' then went around me, makin' marks in the dirt t' outline where he needed t' dig."

He snorted, shaking his head. "I suppose that's one way o' makin' sure the hog fits." As they reached the well, he set his bucket down before starting to turn the crank.

"He took so long tryin' t' get an accurate size down that I nearly fell asleep," she chuckled. Her nose then scrunched up slightly and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawned.

His brow rose. "Speakin' o' sleep, I can't help but notice how exhausted you look, lass," he said, his voice a bit softer. "Did you have another one o' your nightmares?"

Glancing away, she let out a heavy sigh. "Two, actually," she quietly admitted. "Woke up from one, managed t' go back t' sleep, an' had the other. Gave up tryin' to sleep after that."

"I thought it was a bit odd for you t' have so much bread made already." Once he got the bucket within reach, he pulled it over and set it on the wall of the well.

Baylee's eyes widened slightly when she suddenly felt his arms wrap around her, but they quickly closed and a small smile came to her lips. She returned the embrace, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Isn't there anythin' you can do t' help stop them?" he murmured, gently rubbing her back.

"Not until we get t' Laketown an' my uncle can make me some dreamless tea." As with every time he held her, she could feel her worries starting to melt away as the feeling of security swept over her. Part of her began to wonder if she would have the nightmares if he held her like this at night—but she quickly chased that thought from her mind, as it would be _extremely_ improper for them to share a bed before they were married.

 _If_ they got married, that is.

"Makes me tempted t' ride down there myself an' get the ingredients for him. You need the rest."

"I'll be able t' take a nap in an hour or two," she assured him. "Luckily, the nightmares don't seem t' come during the day."

He leaned back somewhat, concern written all over his face as he looked at her. "Lass, naps can only do so much good," he said. "With how busy your days can get, you need a long night o' sleep in order to get any sort o' rest." His hand unconsciously left her back and moved to instead rest on her cheek. "…I care about you, lass," he quietly admitted, pressing his forehead against hers. "I care about you a great deal. An' seein' you exhausted more days than I've seen you well rested worries me. It's not healthy."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I…I don't mean t' worry anyone. I just—I just can't stop them." She opened her eyes and looked at him, a small, guilty smile on her lips. "But, I promise when I come back from Laketown, I'll be better rested an' I'll have a large supply o' that tea."

He managed a small smile as well, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I hope you know I'm goin' t' hold you to that," he murmured.

"I know you will."

Bofur tilted his head and pressed his lips against hers. Unlike when Rán had first kissed her, Baylee didn't feel at all shocked or dumbfounded. Instead, as she returned the kiss, she was left feeling calm and happy. Everything about Bofur's kiss was so different from Rán's, from his mustache tickling her cheeks to the scent of cherry tobacco and cedarwood that filled her nose…

This felt right.

This felt so _incredibly_ right.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers again. "…I know you're torn between me an' Rán, but…but I just had t' do that," he murmured, his cheeks having turned red.

"…You know about that?" She knew she shouldn't have been too shocked about this, given how everyone else at the inn knew, but it did bring back that sense of guilt.

"It's hard not to," he chuckled. "I think everyone here knows you're torn between the two o' us. An' if they don't know that, then they at least know Rán an' I are rivals for you."

She quietly sighed and glanced away guiltily. "I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed slightly. "There's nothin' for you t' be sorry about, lass." He stole a second kiss from her, this one lasting only a few seconds. "You can't rush a decision like this an', while I don't know 'bout Rán, I do know that _I'll_ wait as long as it takes for you t' make up your mind."

When she looked back at his face, she found a reassuring smile on his lips; something inside her chest felt like it had started to melt. Her hand rising up, she brushed some strands of hair from his face. "You're too sweet, you know that?" she half joked.

He snorted, his brow rising. "That's a first. Normally, folk tell me I'm too annoyin' or crude—never sweet." A quiet sigh of content left his mouth as Baylee hugged him once more.

"You can never be too annoyin'," she murmured. By chance, she glanced at the kitchen window only to see Adela peeking out. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and embarrassment, but the other woman merely gave her a cheeky smile and two thumbs' up before ducking out of the way.

With a quiet sigh, she reluctantly leaned back. "We should probably get back inside," she told him. "I've got t' check on the bread an' get started on those griddlecakes."

He nodded in understanding. "Aye…If you need help with _anythin'_ , though, lass, I want t' know. I'd be more than happy t' help you, especially when you're exhausted." His brows rose in pleasant surprise when Baylee was the one to initiate their third kiss.

"I know," she murmured, a small smile on her lips. "An' I'll do my best t' remember. Though, Galiene, Gawen, an' Prim should be here soon, so there's more help right there."

He nodded in understanding. "Still. When I'm done helpin' Miss Adela with those berries, I'd be happy t' chop fruit or vegetables or flip some griddlecakes for you." He then gave her a playful wink. "Just for you, though."

She laughed, her brow rising; reluctantly, she stepped back from him, ending their embrace at last. "Oh? An' what if Gawen needs help haulin' the hog out o' the laundry, hmm?" she teased. Picking up one of the empty buckets, she placed it on the wall of the well.

His brow rose. "Wait, what? Why's the hog in the laundry o' all places?" Grabbing the water bucket, he started to fill the empty one.

"Because it's the only spot with enough room an' airflow for it," she explained. "Galiene has it strung up an' covered in salt an' herbs. It's over a bucket, o' course, t' catch any an' all liquid that comes out."

"Huh. Normally, Bombur would just shove a spit up its bum an' roast it over the fire, basting it with its own juices." With the water bucket empty, he dropped it into the center of the well, watching as it fell down and down until he heard a splash.

She giggled at his description, her brow rising. "Galiene would do that for a smaller pig or roast, but as I mentioned, this one's bigger than me. Not even Gerdi's fancy stove could hold it."

"Hmm…that's true. Now, the _royal_ kitchens on the other hand—those could handle it quite well." A cheeky grin came to his face as he started to turn the crank again. "If I recall, Bombur an' Gerdi were able t' roast a whole cow on the spit in there."

"Wh-what? Are you serious?" her eyes were wide in shock.

He nodded. "Aye, I am. Though, they've only done it once an' that was for Kili an' Tauriel's engagement party."

"I wonder what they'll be doin' for their wedding, then?"

"Oh, that's going t' be a joint effort between the two kingdoms. Since they're bein' married during the summer, they were goin' t' have the whole thing out in the fields, so there's going t' be a bunch o' spit-roasted meats, fire-baked vegetables, lots o' alcohol so the elves an' dwarves can tolerate one another…"

Once more, she burst into a fit of giggles. "Nienna help _everyone_ when that day comes," she laughed, "because if Thranduil brings out his good wine, there are goin' t' be some _major_ hangovers."

"If you think his wine's strong, you haven't tried dwarven mead." He grinned playfully at her. "That stuff can knock an elf on their arse, I'm sure o' it. It takes a couple o' tankards to get us dwarves drunk, but the other races?" He shook his head, snorting.

"Sounds like I wouldn't be able t' have even a drink o' it before I'm drunk." Grabbing the empty bucket, she put it on the wall so Bofur could fill it up, too.

"I don't think I'd let you near the stuff, t' be honest," he chuckled, pouring the water into the bucket. "Even if I wouldn't mind the cuddles an' compliments that come with a drunk Baylee. I wouldn't want you t' suffer the horrid hangover it'd bring you." Once the bucket was full, he left the still half-full well bucket on the wall before pushing one of his braids over his shoulder. Then, taking the handle of the smaller bucket, he easily lifted it. He reached for the second bucket as well, but Baylee lifted it up before he could.

She playfully stuck her tongue out at him as he pouted. "I'm awake enough t' carry _one_ bucket," she told him with a small laugh. She started to walk back towards the kitchen door. "I _could_ carry both, but you, bein' the sweetheart that you are, aren't lettin' me."

"Well, I did say I'd be more than happy t' help you," he grinned. "An' that includes carryin' buckets o' water for you, whether they're full _or_ empty." He felt his cheeks grow warm and his grin turned a bit silly as Baylee leaned over, kissing his cheek.

* * *

"Baylee, lass? It's time for you t' wake up."

Groaning, Baylee rolled over in bed and pulled her blanket over her head.

Adela, who stood on the other side of her bedroom door, however, did not see that. Her brow rising at the silence, she knocked again. "Come on, Baylee—it's almost noon!" When still no answer came, she shook her head and entered the room. She closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed, where she couldn't help but giggle.

Baylee was curled up in the furthest corner of the bed; at first glance, most people would have simply assumed that she was a pillow covered by the blanket. Adela knew better, however. Shaking her head, she grabbed the edge of the covers and, with a quick tug, pulled it off the slumbering woman. Baylee swore and curled up into an even smaller ball, hugging herself. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at Adela only to blink in confusion.

"What're you doing in here?" she asked. Uncurling herself, she rolled onto her back before pushing herself upright and yawning.

"I came t' wake you up," Adela replied, her brow raised in amusement. "It's almost noon, so I came t' get you like you asked me to."

Nodding slowly, Baylee closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed the back of her neck. "Thank you," she yawned. "Though, I feel like I could use another six hours o' sleep…"

"I bet you do! You made a _lot_ o' bread an' griddlecakes this morning." Leaning over, she grabbed Baylee's overtunic and tossed it to her only to chuckle when it landed on her head. "Your da' came into the kitchen just a bit ago an' thought he had walked into a bakery, there was so much bread."

"Aye…Galiene wanted me t' make her a lot o' bread, so I did," she chuckled, pulling the garment off her head and trying to find the bottom of it. "I hope no one's used up the last o' my cranberries, though."

"Don't worry. None o' us has touched them." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall, watching her. "An', as per your request, three loaves o' fruit bread have been set aside specifically for the prince."

She nodded in understanding, covering her mouth as she yawned. "An' still no word about a definite time o' arrival?" Finally finding the bottom of the overtunic, she pulled it on.

"No, not yet." Her head tilted and she quietly giggled. "Baylee, love, you do know that's inside out, aye?"

"…O' course I knew," she poorly lied as she removed the garment and quickly turned it right-side out. "An' I'm sure he an' Dwalin will show up before dinner."

"Dwalin?"

"That's the name o' the 'bodyguard' he's bringin' with him."

"Ahh…Have you met him before?"

"No, but the lads talk fondly about him. They're positive he an' I are the same height."

Her brow rose in amusement. "Really? I didn't think dwarves got much taller than Bofur."

"From what I hear, Dwalin's one o' the tallest dwarves there is."

"That'll be interestin' to see. Like I said, I didn't think they could get much taller than Bofur, an' he's still a good four inches shorter than you." She chuckled quietly as she watched her grab her boots, checking to see which was left and which was right. "Which made it a really adorable sight t' see him standin' on his tiptoes t' kiss you."

Baylee felt her cheeks grow hot and her eyes shot open. "I-I thought y-you only saw us huggin'?" she squeaked.

"Nope. I'll admit I was a wee bit o' a snoop and watched the two o' you for a bit. I know I shouldn't have peeked, but I couldn't help it." Her tone was apologetic.

"It's alright," she sighed. "Just—just please don't tell anyone, alright?"

"I wasn't going to, I promise." She stood upright when Baylee finished pulling her boots on. "Believe me, I know what it's like t' not want people t' know about my love life."

Baylee gave her a small, thankful smile. "At least you an' Will can finally be open about it. Seein' how happy Will is now that he gets t' cuddle you while eatin' breakfast is too adorable." She shook her head and, grabbing a belt, fastened it around her waist. "Is the kitchen still in a state o' chaos, by the way?"

"Not too bad, really. It's mostly just food prep now, which Bofur, Bifur, and Ori have helped quite a bit with. Those three are really good at chopping up vegetables and breaking down chickens."

She quietly laughed and followed Adela out of her room and into the hall. "I'm glad t' hear they offered their help while I napped. T' be honest, I was worried that me goin' off t' sleep would be a hinderance t' things."

Shaking her head, Adela chuckled. "Not at all. With how tired you were, I was surprised you were even managing to function as well as you did." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Though, _why_ were you so tired?"

"The excitement for today." It was a lie, but the words flowed from her mouth as easily as the truth—one of the rare times she could lie well. "It's not every day you get t' meet a dwarven prince, after all."

"Says the woman who's good friends t' the King o' Dale."

"The king o' Dale an' the crown prince o' Erebor are two entirely different people. Bard an' I grew up alongside one another, so he's as good as bein' my brother at this point." Reaching the door of the family quarters, she grabbed one of the spare keys. As the two stepped into the hall, she started to lock the door.

Adela nodded in acquiesce. "That's true. By the way, do you think Bard'll be bringin' Sigrid an' Bain?"

"Even if he doesn't, I'm sure they'll find a way t' sneak down here before their nurse notices." She chuckled, slipping the key around her neck. Her brow then rose as a round of laughter erupted from the common room—definitely the lads.

When she and Adela stepped out of the hall to cover the short walk to the kitchen, she could see that the lads were eating their lunches. They had all donned nicer clothes than what she was used to seeing them in, more than likely so Fili wouldn't end up feeling overdressed or something similar. The rest of the common room, she saw, was the typical level of busy for it being around lunch time, with most of the tables taken up by customers. Primrose and Wenna sat at the bar, eating their lunches while Rosalyn and Rosamunde tended to the customers.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of many large bowls sitting on the island, each one containing either a chopped or diced vegetable. Galiene, she saw, was sitting at the end of the island, making quick work of peeling potatoes; once they were peeled, she dropped them into a bucket of water. Gawen, meanwhile, was stirring a large pot of something on the hearth. Both of them seemed quite calm as they looked over at her and Adela.

"Ah, you're awake!" Galiene chirped. "How was your nap, lass?"

"Decent enough," she smiled, looking around. "I see you've got enough prepped vegetables t' last you a few days in here."

Gawen snorted. "If only they'd last us for days. A good portion o' them are going t' go into this stock I'm makin', which'll then be turned into gravy."

She nodded in understanding, watching while Adela grabbed one of their smaller serving trays, which had a bowl, some bread, and a hand pie on it. "I heard the lads helped you with the prep."

"They did!" Galiene chuckled. "I was surprised by how fast they got everything cut up—they had ten pounds o' vegetables cut up in less than half an hour! An' that Bifur—oh, he could work in a butcher's shop with how well he can break down chickens."

"From what Bofur's told me, he used t' be a hunter, so that doesn't surprise me much," Baylee chuckled. "How many o' the chickens went into the stock?"

"Just the wingtips an' the back bones," Adela told her. She walked over and handed Baylee the platter. "The rest are currently roastin' in the oven. Now here's your lunch; Prim an' Wenna are out eating theirs right now, so you can go gossip with them."

Her brow rose and she snorted. " _They're_ the ones who do the gossipin'," she countered. "I just listen to it." She grinned as Adela lightly bumped her with her hip before turning around and leaving the kitchen.

Entering the common room again, she made her way over to the bar so she could eat with her friends. She glanced over at the lads' table, finding them happily eating; by chance, Bofur looked in her direction and, seeing that she was awake, gave her a smile and a small wave. Returning the wave, she smiled as well, feeling her cheeks grow pink and a bit of warmth fill her chest.

"There's the sleepyhead!" Wenna chirped when Baylee set her tray down in front of them. "How was your nap?"

"Decent enough. I hope things weren't too chaotic without me out here."

Primrose shook her head, using a napkin to wipe her face off. "Not at all. We've been workin' in shifts. Rosalyn and Rosamunde ate their lunches first while we served customers an' then we switched about ten minutes ago."

Noticing the pinkness on her cheeks, a mischievous smile came to Wenna's lips. "What's got you so pink in the face, 'Lee?" she asked before shoving a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

Her cheeks darkened at the question and her brow rose. "Just saw Bofur smilin' is all," she said, leaning against the counter. She stirred her soup around for a moment before gathering up a spoonful and popping it into her mouth.

"You and smiles," Primrose chuckled, her brow rising as well. "Though, I have to admit, it's a bit strange _not_ seein' you going upstairs to eat with Rán after you've gone up there the last four days or so."

Wenna nodded in agreement. "Aye, I'll agree with that," she said. "He did try t' request it, o' course, but we told him you were takin' a much-needed nap."

"He still ate, though, right?"

"O' course he did. He ate at his normal dinner spot," Primrose answered. "Right now, he's out on a small walk. Though, as far as we're all aware, he's been here at the inn _all_ day." She quietly giggled and shook her head.

Baylee snorted. "Ah, I see he finally got stir crazy enough t' disobey Seth's orders then."

"Aye, he did. I can't blame him much, though, considering that he's been stuck in the inn for almost a whole week now," said Primrose. "Bein' that he's a ranger, he's used to being outside most o' the time. And with his men being away from the inn most o' the time, it's got to be a bit lonely."

"Well, that's why he's always asking for Baylee," Wenna giggled. "So she can give him some company and they can do a wee bit o' smooching."

"Wh-what? What're you talkin' about?" She glanced at Primrose as her face grew hot; Adela had told her that Primrose promised she wouldn't tell anyone else! "W-we-we don't do any smooching!"

A cheeky grin came to her lips and she started to giggle harder. "I was just teasin' you, but the way you reacted just now tells us you _have_ been doin' some smooching," she teased.

Her lips pursing in a pout, she tore off a piece of bread from the loaf before dipping it into her soup. 'At least that means Prim kept her promise,' she thought with a sigh. "Alright, alright…Rán an' I may have done a bit o' kissing," she admitted, knowing it would be of little use to hide the information from them.

"So you're made your choice?" Primrose chirped, her eyes widening.

"No."

"But you just said—"

"Aye, I know I just said we've kissed, but…I'm still not certain. Not t' mention…" She glanced across the room at Bofur only to bite her lower lip. "Bofur an' me have kissed, too."

Wenna blinked, her eyes widening slightly. "What? Really? But he doesn't seem like the sort t' smooch without officially courtin' someone."

Baylee nodded in agreement as she chewed the soup-soaked bread. "That's what I kind o' thought, too, since he's been the more subtle o' the two this whole time." She glanced over at Primrose when she nudged her.

"So, what're you waiting for?" she chuckled, her brow raised. "Are you going t' tell us what the kisses were like or are you just goin' to keep us in suspense?"

Rolling her eyes, Baylee chuckled. "Well…It's kind o' hard t' describe them, to be honest. Rán's kiss is…patient, but sort o' hungry at the same time, if that makes any sense. Like, I can tell he wants more than what I'm willin' t' give, so he holds himself back. An' his stubble tickles my chin quite a bit."

"If a man as handsome as him kissed me like that, I'd let him go as far as he wanted, whether we were courtin' or not," Wenna mumbled under her breath.

Primrose's eyes widened and she used her napkin to lightly smack her upside the head. "Wenna! That was crude and highly unladylike!" she gasped while Baylee cracked up beside her.

Wenna grinned innocently. "Oh, you can't tell me you don't think the same, Prim!" she accused teasingly.

"I _don't_! _No_ such thoughts o' that sort have ever entered my mind," Primrose retorted, looking aghast that Wenna would even suggest such a thing. With her lips pursed in a small pout, she added, "I'll have you know, I do have _similar_ thoughts, but me an' the lad are _always_ either courtin' or engaged." Her pout turned into a bit of grin when Baylee and Wenna cracked up.

"See? Even you've got some unladylike thoughts roamin' around in that brain o' yours," Baylee joked. She lightly shook her head and ate another spoonful of soup, chewing the piece of fish that came with it.

Wenna snorted, breaking her hand pie in half. "So, you told us about _one_ kiss and it sounded quite pleasant. What about the other, then? What was kissing Bofur like?"

Baylee stirred her soup around a bit more, trying to come up with a way to describe the kiss. "He was very gentle and soft," she said, still not quite sure if she was describing it properly, "an'…well, it was filled with love. I can't really describe it any other way." She badly wanted to tell them how _right_ the kiss had felt, but at the same time, she knew it would only make them want to help Rán in winning her over.

'I love them dearly,' she thought as she chewed more bread, 'but I know they're on Rán's side. And while that's perfectly fine, it's bad enough knowing that my closest friends and some of my family is going to be more than a little disappointed when I tell them he's not my first choice…' Using the last bit of her bread to sop up the remaining bits of soup, she popped it into her mouth before breaking her hand pie in half.

"Well, that's good!" Primrose chirped. "But Rán's was also filled with love, right? It couldn't have been _just_ hungry-yet-patient."

She rubbed the side of her neck, her brow rising. "O' course there was love," she chuckled. "If there hadn't been, I wouldn't have let him keep kissin' me." Taking a bite of the hand pie, she glanced around at the customers; she was unaware that Wenna was giving her a bit of an odd look, as her answer didn't sit too well with her for some reason. A handful of patrons had left since she started eating, though most of them remained—and a good portion of that remaining number didn't have food on their tables. Only tankards.

Just when she was about to point this out to Wenna and Primrose, the door to the inn opened. Sigrid and Bain came bolting in, giggling their little heads off. They came to a halt, looking around for a few seconds before spotting Baylee and rushing towards her. Sigrid, Baylee saw, had her hair in upturned pigtails, which made her quietly laugh.

"Why hello there, you two troublemakers!" she grinned, catching them as they flung themselves at her. "I take it your da' an' the prince are here, then?"

"An' Mister Dwalin!" Bain chirped, letting himself be draped over Baylee's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He's as tall as you, auntie!"

"An' he-he's even missin' part o' the same ear as you!" Sigrid giggled as she, too, was hoisted over Baylee's shoulder. Seeing her aunt's plate of food and the untouched half of a hand pie, she grinned. Reaching over, she plucked it up, earning some snickers from Wenna and Primrose.

Baylee turned slightly, just barely able to see Wenna past Bain's bum. "Do either o' you happen t' know where papa is?" From the corner of her vision, she could see Will getting to his feet.

"He's outside!" Bain answered for them. "He an' da' an' the prince are chattin'. We got bored, so we came in here." He snickered and, reaching out, snatched up the other half of the hand pie, not caring that a bite had already been taken from it.

In mid-chewing, Sigrid's eyes widened. "Oh!" she said, some crumbs falling from her mouth. "Daddy says he'd like some ale, Mister Dwalin would like beer, an' Mister Prince Fili would like cider. An' all three would like some lunch—whatever Miss Galiene has goin' is just fine." She giggled as she was suddenly hoisted off of Baylee's shoulder by Will.

"Well, well, well, looks like we've got a pair o' silly royal siblings on our hands again today," he grinned, tucking them under his arm. "An' I see you've managed t' steal your auntie's hand pie!"

Baylee's brows furrowed and she looked back at her tray. A pout came to her lips when she found her dessert gone. "You two cheeky blighters…you're lucky you're cute," she said, reaching over and teasingly tweaking their noses. "You think you can handle these two for a wee bit, Will? I've got three plates o' lunch t' go get ready."

He snorted. "O' course I do. An' if they try t' misbehave, I'll just hang them from the chandelier," he told her.

"That'd be fun!" Bain grinned.

"Well, now that you went an' said that, he's going t' have to dangle you upside down over the soup pot!" Baylee giggled, her brow rising. She turned to face Wenna and Primrose again. "Can one o' you get those drinks ready?"

"On it!" Wenna chirped. "Ale, beer, an' cider, aye?"

Nodding, she started to gather up their empty dishes onto her tray. "Correct. I'll be out shortly with their lunches." With the tray full now, she lifted it and headed into the kitchen.

Galiene, Gawen, and Adela glanced over at her as she entered. "How goes it out there?" asked Gawen. "Rosalyn said it's calmed down quite a bit."

"It's goin' well enough. There's still a bit o' a crowd waitin' around to see the prince, who just arrived," she replied, carrying the soiled dishes to the sink. "As have our prince an' princess."

"What!? Already!?" Galiene gawked, nearly dropping her wooden spoon.

"Aye." She moved to grab a larger tray as well as four bowls: Three for soup and one for bread.

"W-w-well, I need t' make somethin' special for him right quick then, now don't I?" she stammered, her eyes wide.

Gawen pointed _his_ wooden spoon at his aunt, a scolding look on his face. "Stop your frettin', Aunt 'Ene," he said. "I'm sure if the prince wanted somethin' fancy for lunch, Baylee would have told us by now. Right, 'Lee?"

She nodded in agreement. "They just want whatever you've already got goin'," she chuckled, ladling soup into the bowls. "From what the lads have told me, Fili doesn't really like much special treatment."

"Unless it involves cranberry-orange bread," Adela laughed. "Would you like me t' fetch you a loaf o' that from the pantry?"

"Aye, please!" She then looked over at Galiene. "You're already roastin' a whole hog for him, Galiene," she then said, her voice a bit on the gentle side now. "He can handle a bit o' yummy fish soup for his lunch."

There was a small pout on Galiene's lips, but she shook her head and sighed in defeat. "I suppose you're right. I can't have _all_ his meals be fancy, after all. Otherwise, I'll have us all worn out by the end o' his visit."

"Exactly," Gawen agreed. "As it stands, you're goin' t' be busy enough, thinkin' about how t' use all the leftover meat from that hog over the next few days."

Coming out of the pantry, Adela snorted. "Leftover roast hog? Gawen, do you _not_ know how quickly your aunt's roast hog gets devoured, lad?" She brought the loaf of cranberry bread over to Baylee, who was putting some small, crusty loaves of bread into the fourth bowl. "Do you want me t' slice any o' this up, 'Lee?"

"Hmm…aye, make about four slices, but then leave the knife on the plate so they can cut more if they want," she replied. Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed a tiny bowl meant specifically for butter from the shelf before crossing the kitchen to fill it.

"I'm doin' medium slices. That alright?"

"Sounds good." By the time she returned to the platter, Adela had rearranged the bowls so that the plate of cranberry-orange bread could fit as well. "Thanks, Adela," she said, putting the butter dish onto the platter as well. Then, lifting the whole thing up, she carried it out of the kitchen.

And just in time, too, by the looks of it. Across the common room, Bard and Warren were stepping through the door, followed by two dwarves. Even without the lads' explanations, she was certain she would have been able to tell who was who: Fili, who was shorter and blonde, looked quite young next to Dwalin, the taller one who had deep, blue tattoos across the width of his half-bald scalp.

The lads let out cries of joy upon seeing the two and, jumping up from their seats, hurried over only to practically tackle Fili—except Ori. Though he had gotten up to greet them, Baylee watched him first greet Dwalin. Normally, she would have thought this was so he didn't help overwhelm the prince, but she saw a softness come to both his and Dwalin's faces that told her there was something more than just friendship between the two of them.

She was just about to carry the tray over to the lads' table when Wenna came out of the private dining room. "Ah, so we'll be settin' him up in there, then?"

Wenna nodded, brushing her hands off on her apron. "Aye. Since he's a visitin' prince, I put his cider at the head o' the table, nearest the fireplace."

"Alright. Thanks for gettin' their drinks, by the way." She gave her a thankful smile.

"No trouble. By the way, there's somethin' I need t' talk with you about later."

Baylee's brow rose. "Oh?"

Once more, Wenna nodded. "Don't worry, nothin' serious," she assured her. "Just…a wee bit o' 'girl talk'." Her cheeks turned a bit red and she smiled innocently.

"Alright. When we get our next break, we can chat. Does that sound good?" Given how Wenna was blushing and that it was 'girl talk' she wanted to talk about, she figured that the younger woman wanted to talk about something a little more private than gossip about handsome men and rangers. 'Then again,' she told herself, 'maybe she does just want to talk about one of the lads, but it's not proper enough to be said around Prim?'

"That works perfectly. Now, I best let you go put those bowls down before your arm turns t' lead. Oh, and the beer is on Fili's left while the ale's on his right." Smiling, she headed off to check on some patrons while Baylee went inside the private dining room.

'I bet she's going to want to talk about Nakara,' she thought, carrying the tray to the head of the table. 'It's too bad he has his eye on Ashailyn. He and Wenna would make for a cute couple…Though, she'd also be cute Seth…' Shaking her head, she started to unload the platter. She made sure to put the plate of cranberry bread right in front of Fili's spot so that it wouldn't go unnoticed.

Just as she set the bowl of crusty bread loaves down, the lads, as well as Bard, Fili, and Dwalin, came through the doorway.

"Ah, here's Baylee!" Ori chirped. "We were wonderin' where you disappeared to."

"Just into the kitchen t' get some food for the newcomers," she chuckled.

Seeing the loaf of fruit bread, Bofur grinned broadly. "Ah, I see you brought Fili a whole loaf o' the cranberry-orange bread," he joked. He then gave Fili a hearty pat on the back. "Don't eat all o' it before you eat your soup now, lad. Don't want you t' spoil your appetite."

Fili's cheeks turned a bit pink, but he snorted and elbowed the older dwarf. "Very funny," he grinned, his brow rising. "I know to save the last part of a meal for last. _Especially_ if it has cranberries in it."

"Now if only my children would learn t' such a thing," Bard chuckled. He looked at Baylee, a smile on his lips. "Baylee, I'm sure you know already, but these are Prince Fili an' Captain Dwalin."

"Welcome t' the Full Tankard, milords," Baylee chirped. "I hope you two enjoy your stay. Before you sit, that one's the cider, that's the ale, an' that's the beer." While she spoke, she pointed at the tankards.

"Thank you, Miss Baylee," Fili replied. "Everything both looks and smells delicious."

"That'd be Miss Galiene's handiwork," Nori said. "You'll soon find out she's almost as good as Gerdi when it comes t' cookin'." As the two royals and Dwalin took their seats, so did everyone else. None of the lads, however, seemed to have their own drinks on them.

Her brow rising slightly, Baylee chuckled. "Lads, did you forget your drinks?" she asked them.

Bifur frowned slightly and looked down only to realize that she was right. "Ah…I suppose we did," he chuckled.

"Tell me what you all had t' drink an' I'll refill them before bringin' them to you," she chuckled.

"Beer," chorused Nori and Bifur while Ori and Bofur chimed in with, "Ale."

Nodding, she excused herself and went to go fetch and refill their drinks. She normally would have asked at which spot they had been sitting so she wouldn't accidentally hand them the wrong mug later, but given that they _always_ sat in the same spot (unless she, Will, or Warren was sitting with them), however, she wasn't terribly worried about mixing them up.

While gathering up the tankards, she glanced around for Warren, Will, and the two smaller royals. Out of the four of them, she only saw Warren, who was behind the bar, though she soon saw Will sprinting by the window while glancing over his shoulder.

'Ah, good, he's helping them to spend some of that excess energy of theirs,' she thought with a chuckle. Her platter now filled with the nearly-empty tankards, she took it over to the bar. 'I'm sure Bard will appreciate that…and I'm sure they're going to be disappointed to find that my hard candies aren't in the same spot anymore.'

"How was your nap, 'Lee?" Warren asked when she approached.

"Decent," she replied, setting two of the mugs on the counter for him. "Those both were beer."

He nodded and, grabbing them both in one fist, stepped over to the tap. "I'm surprised you even needed a nap," he chuckled. "Did you have trouble fallin' asleep because o' the excitement for today?" Seeing her cheeks pinken, his smile faltered slightly.

"N-not exactly." She rubbed the side of her neck.

A sigh left his mouth. "You had your nightmares, didn't you?" When she bit her lip and glanced away, he knew he had hit the nail on the head. "Baylee…Don't you have any o' that dreamless tea Richard makes?"

She shook her head. "We'll be restockin' when we get t' Laketown," she told him. "An' I'm going t' be sure t' get extra o' the ingredients so I can have a nice, big supply."

Turning his wrist so the next mug started to fill with beer. "When you phrase it like that, you almost make it sound like they've started up again." Her cheeks turned redder and a mixture of concern and scolding came to his face. "Baylee… _have_ they started up again?"

"M-Maybe?" She smiled innocently.

"For how long?"

"…Maybe a month…or four…"

He nearly dropped the beers in shock. "Baylee Braddock!" Closing the tap, he put the two tankards back onto her platter before putting his hands on his hips. "Why haven't you said anything, young lady?" he demanded. Though his tone was scolding, he kept his voice quiet enough that only she could hear him.

"I didn't want t' worry anyone," she replied, slouching slightly. "An', t' be fair, I _did_ tell Will."

"After he coerced you into tellin' him, I'm sure."

"Not really, no—you can even ask him. I told him just a few days after he got back from Dorwinion."

His brow rose in skepticism; part of him believed her, but another part of him knew Baylee was the sort of person that _did_ need coercing when she thought a trouble of hers would be bothersome for other people. Sighing heavily, he shook his head. "Well…this definitely explains why you've been gettin' up so early these past couple o' months…" He picked up the two ale mugs and moved to fill them as well.

"To be fair, even on days when I don't have nightmares, I've been wakin' up early," she told him. "It's been nice, makin' my bread with only Bofur or Rán around…I don't have t' share counter space."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Well, when you're down at the High Tide, you better be sleepin' in an' catching up on some rest," he told her. "Admittedly, now that I know you've not been sleepin' well, I'm tempted t' put you on temporary leave so you can sit around an' be lazy for a while."

She gave him a dry look. "You an' I both know that wouldn't work." Sighing, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Papa, I promise I'm fine. Last night was especially bad, but every other night's been fine."

"You say you're fine, lass, but that's not goin' t' keep me from worrying about you." With both tankards filled, he closed the tap and set them on the tray with the two beers. "I'm your da'. I'm going t' worry about you no matter what." He reached across the counter and ruffled her hair, making her pout when she tried to flatten it again. "Now, you should probably get these drinks t' their owners before they start wondering what happened t' you." Glancing past her, he could see Wenna and Rosamunde coming towards him, both with trays full of empty tankards. "An' I need t' get ready for a long night o' drink-refilling."

Lightly shaking her head, she picked up the platter and headed towards the private dining room. Since the doors were open, she could see a few people leaning back in their chairs, attempting to get a look at the dwarven prince within. Some of them, she saw, were even tilting their chairs back, teetering on just two of the four legs. Her brow rose and she wondered how many would end up falling over.

When she entered the room, only Bofur and Fili really looked up at her. Fili, she saw, was munching away on a large bite of the cranberry-orange bread; his bowl of soup had barely been touched.

'So much for saving the best for last,' she inwardly laughed.

"Thanks, lass," Bofur said, taking his mug as she held out to him. "I'm surprised you knew which tankard belonged t' which bloke." He took a drink of the ale, being sure to suck the foam from his mustache afterwards.

"Not hard t' remember when you four sit in the same spots every day." She smiled, setting Ori's ale beside him before rounding the table to give Bifur and Nori their beers.

"Do we?" Bifur questioned, his brow rising. Seeing Ori and Nori nod, he chuckled. "Huh. I never noticed that. I suppose it makes a bit o' sense, given that we've become creatures o' habit, it seems."

"Miss Baylee, this bread is very delicious," Fili said once there was a slight lull in the conversation. "In fact, I daresay this is better than that first loaf I tasted."

A bit of a victorious grin came to her lips and her cheeks turned a bit red. "I'm glad t' hear you enjoy it, milord," she replied. "It might taste a bit better because I let the cranberries an' orange pieces rehydrate in some mead for a wee bit longer than usual."

At that, Bard's brow rose. "Baylee, are you tryin' to get the prince drunk before dinner?" he half-joked.

"It's goin' to take more than a few mead-soaked berries t' get Fili drunk," Dwalin snorted. "It's Kili who's the lightweight." He tore a chunk of crusty bread off from a loaf before dipping it into the soup.

Baylee laughed, holding her tray in front of her once more. "Is there anythin' I can get for you lads?" she then asked. "Some snacks or bowls o' soup?"

"Some snacks should do us," Nori told her. "We've already had lunch, but it's always good t' have finger food nearby when talkin' with friends."

Bifur nodded in agreement. "Aye, that's very true. An' since it's Fili an' Dwalin, that talkin' is sure t' go on for ages."


	22. Chapter 22

Just as the Tankard’s staff had anticipated, by mid-afternoon, the common room was at maximum capacity. Despite there being so many people, however, it was fairly quiet—no meals were being ordered, just small things like bread and cheese or a bowl of nuts (and, of course, plenty of drinks). Baylee and Wenna knew full well this was both because they wanted to seem civilized in front of the dwarven prince while also keeping their bellies empty for Galiene’s roast hog that would be finished soon.

For now, however, the two lasses were taking a breather. Rather than sit outside, they had gone into the laundry room. It had once been a one-story home with multiple rooms, but when it had been added onto the Tankard, all the unnecessary interior walls had been removed, as well as a good portion of the south-facing wall. In the place of the latter, a covered balcony had been built, ropes strung across the width for drying clothes on.

“So, you said you wanted t’ talk with me?” Baylee asked, hopping up to sit on the stone wall of one of the washing kettles.

Wenna hopped up on the wall of the second kettle. “Aye. Earlier, when you were tellin’ us about your kisses with Rán an’ with Bofur—”

“I wasn’t very descriptive?” she interjected with a small laugh. “I’m not exactly the most experienced when it comes t’ describing that sort o’ thing, you know.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Wenna snorted. “Aye, I noticed that all too well. But I _also_ noticed somethin’ else.”

Her brows furrowed somewhat. “An’ what would that be?”

“When Prim asked you if Rán’s kisses had love in them, too…you sounded a bit hesitant when you told us that there was.”

Baylee bit her lower lip and she glanced away from her friend. “…Oh.”

“Oh?” Her brow rose in a mixture of concern and confusion. “What is ‘oh’ supposed t’ mean, ‘Lee?”

A heavy sigh left her mouth. “Don’t get me wrong—there _is_ love in his kisses. There’s plenty o’ love! But like I said, there’s also what feels like hunger an’ patience. With Bofur’s kiss, though…it was nothin’ _but_ love.” As she spoke, she had unconsciously picked up her necklace and started to fiddle with it. “B-but I mean, they’re the only two blokes I’ve ever kissed, so there’s a strong chance I could be readin’ the kisses wrong.”

Wenna gave her a knowing, but playful, smile. “ _Or,_ that’s you tryin’ t’ cover for the fact that you’re goin’ to be pickin’ Bofur regardless o’ what happens when you spend that day with Rán.”

Her eyes widening, Baylee turned to look at Wenna once more. “Wh-what?! N-No, o’ course not! Like I said, I’m goin’ to be waitin’ until _after_ that day t’ make up my mind. After all, there are so many different things that I have t’ take into account about getting’ into a relationship with either o’ them…”

Shaking her head, Wenna gave her a knowing look. “’Lee, I’ve seen the way you look at Bofur an’ I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You might have Prim fooled into thinkin’ you’re truly indecisive, but I know better. You’ve already made up your mind an’ your heart’s going t’ Bofur.”

She let out a defeated sigh; she knew she was too bad at lying to get away with this. “Alright, alright…You’re right. I _am_ pickin’ Bofur. B-But, I _do_ still want t’ give Rán that day! You never know; somethin’ _may_ happen that’ll change my mind. I just want t’ be fair, you know?”

“Aye, I know. That’s just how you are.” She chuckled, pulling a knee to her chest and resting her chin atop it. “I have t’ say, though…You only met Bofur about four months ago an’ you’ve already fallen _this_ hard for him.”

“I know. I’m confused by it, too. It took Bard an’ me years t’ develop feelings for one another, so you’d think the same would happen with me an’ Bofur. But…” She shook her head. “The kisses I shared with him this morning—absolutely everything about them just felt so…so _right_.” She let out a heavy sigh and copied her friend by pulling a knee to her chest. “I don’t know. Maybe Mahal’s also the Valar o’ love?” As Wenna started to giggle, she frowned. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You just called Aulë ‘Mahal’ like the lads do,” she giggled, her brow rising. “Next, you’ll be speakin’ Khuzdul or startin’ t’ sprout yourself a beard.”

“I think I’m more likely t’ grow a beard than I am t’ learn Khuzdul,” Baylee snorted. “It’s a language crafted for the dwarfs an’ _only_ the dwarves. Iglishmêk, on the other hand, is perfectly alright for me t’ know.” She brushed her braid over her shoulder. “…We should probably head back in. With the inn as busy as it is, I don’t want t’ leave Prim an’ her sisters alone for too long.”

Nodding in agreement, Wenna slid off the kettle. “At least if it got truly chaotic, they’ve got Adela in there t’ help them.”

“Aye. Havin’ so much help, especially on nights like this. Come t’ think o’ it, I don’t think the Tankard’s ever had this many hostesses at once.” She opened the door, letting Wenna step outside first so she could lock the door behind them.

“Isn’t this the most amount o’ staff the Tankard’s had in general?” she chuckled, her brow rising. She turned, looking across the courtyard to see that Gawen, Will, and Warren were starting to dig up the hog. “Ooh, it looks like dinner’s goin’ t’ be done soon.”

Baylee grinned. “An’ after that, there’ll be music an’ dancin’, I’m sure.” They started to make their way to the kitchen door, being sure to avoid the dirt that was being shoveled out of the pit. She then took in a deep breath through her nose only to let out a wistful sigh. “That hog may be buried under a bunch o’ dirt an’ cloth sacks, but it sure does smell tasty.”

Copying her, Wenna nodded in agreement. “It really does,” she grinned. “And, luckily, it’s big enough that I _know_ we’ll be able t’ get some o’ the crispy skin.”

“You can have the skin. I want the jowl meat.” She walked up the steps and opened the door. “That’s the most tender part o’ a hog, after all. You barely have t’ chew—it practically melts in your mouth!”

Galiene glanced over. “Sounds like someone’s gettin’ a bit eager for dinner,” she smiled. “Have the boys gotten the hog unearthed yet?”

“Not quite. They looked like they were halfway down when we saw them just now,” Baylee told her.

She and Wenna crossed the kitchen, both grabbing a large serving platter before leaving the kitchen to go see if anyone needed anything in the common room. To their great surprise, the common room was still fairly quiet and calm. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, for which the hostesses were thankful.

They also found Bofur making his way back towards the private dining room, his arms laden with toys and a mischievous grin on his lips.

“What’ve you got there, Bofur?” Wenna asked, her brows furrowing in curiosity.

“The wee prince an’ princess are feelin’ bored, so I thought I’d get them some toys t’ play with,” he explained. “A bit o’ product testin’, if you would.” His grin grew a bit wider when Baylee laughed.

“I’m sure the two o’ them will really appreciate the distraction,” she told him. “Especially since they can’t be runnin’ around with such a full inn. I’m sure they’re bored t’ tears.”

“Not _quite_ that bored—at least, when I last saw them they weren’t,” he chuckled. “By now, though? They _might_ be.”

“Are you lads in need o’ anything, by the way?” Wenna asked. “Drink refills, more snacks…?”

He shook his head. “Miss Rosalyn just filled our mugs for us, but thank you,” he told her.

“Alright. Just give us a holler if you do need somethin’,” Wenna chuckled before she and Baylee headed off.

Shifting the toys slightly, Bofur continued back to the private room. Sitting at the end of the table closest to the door were Sigrid and Bain, both looking bored out of their minds. At the opposite end, Fili was talking with Bard about political matters while the rest of the dwarves were catching up with Dwalin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pair o’ kids look as bored as you two,” he said to the prince and princess. “I’ve got a few things t’ fix that, though.” As he spoke, he set the toys down on the table, taking a few seconds to set them upright in a line.

Their eyes widening in shock, the siblings sat up a bit straighter and big smiles came to their faces. “Those are for—are for us?” Sigrid gawked, drawing the attention of the adults.

“Aye, they are, lassie! I’m not sure what the two o’ you like t’ play with, so I brought down an assortment o’ them.”

Picking up a toy horse that had a little crank wheel attached to it, Bain curiously started to turn the wheel. He gasped loudly when, as he turned it, the legs of the horse started to move as a real horse’s legs would move. “Where did you get all o’ these, Mister Bofur?”

“Bifur an’ I made them,” he told them. Seeing that Sigrid was trying to reach for a toy shaped like a bunny, he turned it to face her. Then, pressing down on its tail, he let go and watched as it took a hop towards the girl.

“Ooh! Papa, look! It bounces—It bounces like a real bunny!” There was a wide grin on her face as she started to make the toy hop all over her side of the table.

“I see that,” Bard chuckled, his brow rising. “It even looks like a real bunny.” Leaning forward a bit so he could check on Bain, he saw that his son was entranced by a toy soldier with a key in its back. The soldier was currently marching forward, but its steps were getting slower and slower until, finally, it stopped.

Bain quickly grabbed it and wound it up again, grinning as it started to march once more.

“Make sure you don’t wind that one up too much, lad,” Bofur gently warned. “Soon as it starts gettin’ tough t’ turn the key, it’s good t’ go.”

He nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Mister Bofur,” he grinned, eyes still fixed on the toy.

“Thank you, Mister Bofur!” Sigrid echoed, having found a crank toy that was shaped like a chicken.

“Have fun, you two,” he smiled before returning to his seat.

Bifur’s brow was cocked as he looked at his cousin. “So _that’s_ where you disappeared to. I thought you were takin’ a bit too long t’ be usin’ the privy.” He heard Fili snort into his tankard of cider.

Shrugging, Bofur continued to grin. “The poor things were close t’ tears thanks t’ their boredom,” he said, grabbing his own tankard. “I couldn’t let them suffer anymore.”

Bard laughed, leaning back in his seat slightly. “They normally have Baylee, Will, or Warren t’ chase them around, but with how busy it is tonight…” He shook his head. “They’ll be occupied for the rest o’ the evening now, I’m sure.” He glanced back at his children, watching as they continued to go through the dozen or so toys, making sure to try them all out before they would decide on their favorites. “I take it those are the sorts o’ toys you’ll be offerin’ in your store?”

Nodding, Bifur set his tankard. “As well as many others—most o’ them bein’ bigger than those.”

Fili lit up slightly. “Will you have the rocking animals?” he asked. “Or the walking animals that move?”

“Aye, we’ll be sellin’ both, lad,” Bofur grinned. “Though, I’m afraid you’re a wee bit too big t’ be riding on them now.”

The prince’s cheeks turned a touch pink, but he laughed. “Of course, I am. They were just always my favorites when I was a lad, so it’d be a shame if you _didn’t_ have those in the shop.”

“Rocking and walking animals?” Bard questioned.

“Aye. Think o’ a rockin’ chair, but in a small an’ cute animal shape,” Dwalin explained. “As for the walkin’ animals, they’re like the rockin’ ones, but they’ve got wheels an’ if you lightly bounce on ‘em, they move across the floor. Dwarrowlings adore them.”

Bofur grinned broadly. “They were Bifur’s idea. He got it after watching Baraz ride around on my back like a pony when he was still a wee thing. Baraz bein’ Bombur’s eldest child.”

Bard nodded in understanding while chewing on a bit of fish. After swallowing, he questioned, “How expensive are these toys goin’ to be, though? While Dale isn’t exactly wanting for money, most of our citizens can’t afford luxury items, let alone luxury toys.”

“No worries about that,” Bifur assured him. “Our rockin’ animals are two gold each, while the walkin’ animals are two gold, ten silver.”

The king looked fairly impressed by this. “That…isn’t terribly expensive at all. To be honest, I would have expected the price to be higher.”

“Bofur and Bifur know their target population well,” Fili laughed. “Children don’t often get much in the way of pocket money, so they like to keep the prices low.”

“Which some may call crazy, given that we make everythin’ by hand,” Bifur said. “But we’ve got ten- or twelve-years’ worth of toys made up an’ ready t’ go.”

At that, Bard and Fili both looked surprised. “That’s…quite a number of toys,” said the former.

“Aye…I didn’t know you two had saved up that many,” commented the latter.

Bofur snorted. “When you’ve got as much free time as we’ve got, you get quite fast at whittlin’ and fiddlin’,” he told them. “O’ course, what you’re fiddlin’ _with_ can be up for debate…”

Dwalin did his best to silence a snort. “Bofur!”

A cheeky grin came to his lips. “You’ve got no right t’ speak; you’re often found fiddlin’ away on your instrument.”

Dwalin’s cheeks started to turn red. “You’re lucky there’re children present, otherwise I’d be pummelin’ you.”

“I think he means you’re literally fiddling,” Ori laughed, his brow rising. “Or have you forgotten how t’ play the fiddle since becomin’ captain o’ the guard?” He snickered as Dwalin’s cheeks turned even redder.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dwalin cocked his brow. “I knew that,” he said, though it was obvious to the others that his mind had gone down a more vulgar path. Because of that, they burst out into a hearty round of laughter at his expense. Grumbling to himself, he picked up his tankard and took a long drink from it.

Nori patted him on the shoulder, a teasing smirk on his lips. “You need t’ stop makin’ it so easy for Bofur t’ get you like that,” he told him, doing his best to not laugh.

“Says the one who often falls into Bofur’s traps, too,” Bifur grinned. “Both o’ you need t’ remember that he’s always tryin’ to find a way to make you turn as red as a beet—especially when he’s had a few drinks!”

At that, Bofur jokingly pouted. “Bifur, you wound me! My own cousin, insinuatin’ that I purposefully try t’ get my friends t’ embarrass themselves!” Shaking his head, he took a small drink of his ale. “You make it sound like I’m some sort o’ mischievous scoundrel!”

“You’re not quite a scoundrel,” Fili grinned as he picked up a piece of cranberry-orange bread, “but you’re definitely a mischievous _something_ or other.” He took a bite only to close his eyes and lean back in his chair. Four slices of the loaf were already gone because of him and he was tempted to reach for a fifth, but he would try his hardest to resist. Having heard that there was going to be a whole-roast hog for dinner, he didn’t want to overstuff himself with bread.

“A mischievous prat, that’s what he is,” Nori chuckled, pulling his pipe out from the inside pocket of his vest. He wanted to add other, less flattering terms, but he bit his tongue as there were children present.

“I can think o’ a few other things t’ call him,” Dwalin said, voicing Nori’s thoughts, “but given that there are children about, I’ll hold my tongue.”

Bard shook his head, his brow raised in amusement. “An’ I thank you for that. As distracted as those two look, I assure you, they’re still partly payin’ attention to us.” When he glanced at his children, he was in time to see Bain pouting and Sigrid sticking her tongue out at them. “Put that tongue away, young lady,” he lightly scolded, though there was humor in his voice.

Sigrid quickly pulled her tongue back into her mouth, but still wore a pout as she went back to playing with the toys.

* * *

Nearly three hours later found Warren, Will, Gawen, and Peter standing at the four corners of the roasting pit, each one managing to fish a hook under one of the poles of the makeshift stretcher the pig was on. The wooden poles had been soaked in water for three days before getting a wire net wrapped around them, making for a way to easily lift the hog in and out of the firepit.

“I got my corner hooked,” Peter said after a few minutes. “Yavanna help me, this smells delicious…”

“Doesn’t it?” Gawen grinned. “I think my aunt outdid herself this time around.”

Galiene, who was supervising, smiled proudly. “I’m glad t’ hear you think so, lad,” she told him. “A little t’ the right, Warren—no, no, _your_ right.”

“Thanks, Galiene,” Warren replied. Even with her direction, however, it was a bit difficult; the wind was blowing towards him and Will, leaving them in the path of both the smoke and the steam. “How’re you doing, Will?”

“Just got my end hooked. Waitin’ on Gawen now.”

“I’m tryin’,” the younger lad replied. “There’s just a bit too much dirt left around my corner, making it a wee bit hard t’ hook.” His nose scrunched up slightly as he tried yet again to get it.

Peter shook his head, chuckling. “How about the three o’ us start liftin’ our corners an’ you can slip your hook under when the stretcher is off the ground?” He glanced over at Warren and Will, wanting to see if they would agree with such a plan.

Will nodded. “Sounds good t’ me. It’s just one corner, anyway—it won’t fall or break.”

“Then on the count o’ three,” Warren grunted. “One—two—three!”

Galiene had to bite her tongue to keep herself from giggling. The sight of three men and one teenager doing their best to lift the hog out of the ground was both amusing and endearing, mostly due to the faces they were making. Peter and Gawen were obviously straining with their end and had their faces contorted in concentration. Will and Warren, though, wore almost identical expressions of scrunched up noses and clenched jaws thanks to the smoke; neither seemed affected much by the pig’s weight.

“Don’t strain yourselves now, lads,” she told them, doing a fairly good job of biting back her laughter. “If it’s too heavy for you lot, I can go ask the dwarves t’ lift it out instead.”

“We’ve got it,” Peter grunted. When the stretcher was high enough, the men turned it ninety degrees before setting it back down across the pit. “We just need t’ have Will trade places with Gawen.”

Gawen frowned slightly. “Why’s that?”

“Will an’ Warren are both stronger than you, so havin’ them both at one end makes the weight distribution a bit uneven,” he explained. “By bringing one o’ them t’ this side, it’ll be more even.”

Nodding in understanding, Gawen rubbed the side of his neck. “Makes sense,” he said with a small chuckle. He hopped over the firepit while Will walked around it. “Are we takin’ this in through the kitchen door or through the front?”

“There’s no way we’ll be able t’ fit through the kitchen door like this, lad,” Warren chuckled. “Not when there’s all these extra vegetables on the stretcher that we’ve got t’ carry.”

“Anyway, we’ve got t’ show off Galiene’s hard work t’ the whole inn,” Will grinned. “Can’t have one o’ her whole roast hogs without lettin’ everyone see how perfectly cooked it is.”

As the men spoke, Galiene crouched down beside the roasted hog. Pulling a sheathed paring knife from her apron pocket, she stuck it into the very middle of the pig, a broad grin coming to her lips as it pierced through nice, crispy skin and into tender, juicy meat. A bit of the juices ran out from the small hole and, finding them nice and clear, she wiped her knife off before putting it away.

“An’ perfectly cooked it is,” she declared, looking up at the men. Still grinning, she flicked the skin, letting them hear how perfectly crisp it was.

“Ooh, you have no idea how tempted I am t’ steal a bit o’ that right now,” Peter snickered. “I won’t though, so you can keep that wee knife o’ yours tucked away, Galiene.”

“You had best not, or else I _would_ use this little knife o’ mine on you,” she told him, her voice dry. With some assistance from her nephew, she stood upright once more before brushing her apron back into place. “But Warren’s right—there’s no way this stretcher will fit through the kitchen door, so we’ll have t’ go around.”

“Then you had best head on over there an’ get the door open for us,” Warren told her, “Because if we don’t get this inside soon, the four o’ us will devour the entirety o’ it.” He wore a cheeky smile as he looked down at the cook, who was giving him an unamused look.

“Then you four had best pick dinner up an’ get t’ following me,” she replied, her voice bland. Shaking her head, she turned and started to walk across the court yard.

Not wanting to risk her wrath, the four crouched down and grabbed the poles. They maneuvered their way around the pit before following after Galiene. Holding the door open, she stepped aside to let them pass by; her stomach quietly growled as she caught a whiff of the scent.

She had to agree with Gawen—she _had_ out done herself this time.

When the men hauled the hog into the Tankard, the entire common room fell silent. The room’s occupants stared in awe, watching their dinner be paraded past them like they were at some royal banquet.

“Oh, that looks _so_ good,” Wenna murmured, her eyes wide as the group walked past her and Baylee. “Galiene’s even thrown in some apples to roast with the pig. Oh, an’ I think I’m smellin’ some cinnamon to boot…”

Baylee quietly laughed, her brow rising; as delicious as the meal both smelled and looked, her attention was mostly focused elsewhere. “Aye, it looks good, but I wish they’d walk a bit faster so I could deliver all these drinks.” On each hand, she was balancing a platter filled with freshly refilled tankards and wine goblets.

Blinking, Wenna looked down only to make a small noise of surprise. “Do you need me t’ take one of those for you, ‘Lee?”

“No, no—I should be good.” She gave her a reassuring smile only to breathe a sigh of relief as the pathway was finally cleared. Blowing a stray lock of hair from her face, she moved forward to deliver the drinks to their thirsty owners. She made her way around the room, delivering tankards and wine goblets to their owners, who thanked her.

Finally reaching the last table—which was the rangers’ table—she found everyone to be in a good mood. Even Rán, who had been a bit grumpy earlier due to the pain in his arm acting up, was all smiles. Though, part of her wondered if he was only smiling because she was present.

“It almost feels as if the whole city were here tonight,” Hunil commented, giving her a thankful nod as she handed him his tankard of beer. “I am surprised you maids have not yet dropped from exhaustion!”

“We almost feel ready to,” Baylee laughed, standing on her tiptoes while leaning across the table. Seth took the goblet of wine from her, thanking her. “Even with three new hires, it’s a wee bit exhausting.”

“Understandable. Given the sheer amount of people in here…” Ashailyn shook her head. “I am surprised that this many people can even fit in this room—and this is not a small room by any means.”

Baylee let out a small snort, her brow rising. “Aye, an’ it doesn’t help that a lot o’ people don’t know how to keep their chairs tucked in. I’m tiny an’ even I’m having a hard time navigating the place. Thankfully, everyone’s behavin’ themselves. Otherwise, it’d be far worse than it is.” She brushed the stray lock of hair from her face. “I know dinner’s going t’ be served soon, but is would any o’ you like anything?”

They shook their heads, assuring her that they were looking forward to dinner too much to want any snacks. They again thanked her for their refilled drinks while she tucked her serving platters under her arm and headed off.

‘I’m glad I took that nap this morning,’ she thought, sneaking her way past various tables. ‘Without it, I’m sure I’d be stumbling over myself by now. But even _with_ the nap, I’m feeling wiped out…’

Heading over to the private room, she found the doors were still wide open, making it easier for her to check on things. Bard was still with the lads while Bain and Sigrid were having a playfight with some of the toys. The windows had been opened a bit, allowing for a cool breeze to circulate around the room—a good thing, considering that most of the dwarves were smoking their pipes.

“Hello, auntie,” Sigrid chirped, looking up as her aunt entered the room. “Your face is—your face is red like a cherry!” she then giggled.

“Yours would be, too, if you were runnin’ all over that stuffy common room,” Baylee grinned. She leaned over and poked the girl’s nose. “Be glad you’re in here, where the air’s cool!”

At that, Bain scrunched his nose up slightly. “It’s cool, yeah, but it also smells like really weird smoke from all their pipes.” He blinked, looking over his shoulder at his father and the dwarves when they started chuckling at his comment.

“I have t’ agree with the wee lad,” Dwalin said. “The combination o’ our pipe tobaccos does make for an odd scent.”

“Especially with Bofur’s fruity blend,” Nori snorted. “Cherry amongst peppermint, clove, plain…it’s odd.”

“When _not_ mixed with your scents, however, it’s the best smellin’ o’ the bunch,” Baylee grinned. “How’re you lads’ drinks holding up?” When she walked closer to the dwarves, Bofur offered her his pipe and, her smile broadening, she thanked him before happily taking a pull from it.

Bard’s brow rose in amusement as he said, “An’ here I thought your father forbade you from smoking. And we could all do with refills.”

A playful grin came to her lips and she handed the pipe back. “Which is exactly why none o’ you are going to tell him or Will,” she chirped, smoke furling from her mouth with every word. She set one of her trays down atop the table to start gathering up the various tankards and.

“Why doesn’t your father like you smokin’?” Ori questioned, a confused look on his face. “I’ve seen him smoking on occasion…”

“He thinks it’s not ladylike,” Bofur answered for her.

Fili snorted at that. “He clearly hasn’t met many female dwarves then,” he said. “Ah, no offense meant of course.”

“None taken, because you’re right,” Baylee said. “He’s only met one female an’ she’s a half-dwarf.”

“Oh! Bard was telling us about her earlier,” the prince grinned. “Lovisa, I think her name was?”

“Aye, Lovisa,” Bard nodded. “One of the best hunters I know.”

Baylee cocked her brow, though still wore a grin. “One o’ the best _huggers_ I know.” She caught Bifur’s empty tankard as he tossed it to her before also catching Nori’s.

Fili drained the last of his cider before also throwing his over; he was a bit hesitant to do such, but when she caught Nori and Bifur’s with ease, he risked it. “She certainly seems like an interesting person,” he then said, impressed she had caught the tankard.

“Bard was sayin’ how she once brought back a boar thrice the size o’ me,” Dwalin added. “Apparently kept half o’ Laketown fed for a few days?”

“Oh, aye! O’ course, that happened only four winters ago, so Laketown’s population wasn’t nearly as large as it used t’ be,” Baylee confirmed. “But it was still an enormous kill. She had the head mounted an’ it’s hung up over the bar in the High Tide. So you’ll get t’ see it sometime late next week. An’, if she’s not out hunting, you’ll get t’ meet Lovisa, too.” She looked over at the children. “Oi, you two troublemakers look a wee bit thirsty. Would you like some juice or tea?”

The siblings perked and nodded. “Juice, please!” Bain chirped.

“Thank you, auntie,” Sigrid added, giving her a cheeky grin.

As Baylee excused herself and left the room, Dwalin gave Fili a teasing nudge. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself a crush on a lass yeh ain’t even met yet,” he quietly teased. Thanks to the depth of his voice, however, his comment was heard by everybody but the children.

His cheeks turning bright red, Fili punched Dwalin’s bicep. “Very funny,” he replied, voice dry. “I just think that it’s interesting that she’s a hunter. Most dwarrow dames prefer to have occupations closer to their homes.”

“I just want to know how she does it,” Bifur said. “Does she use a bow an’ arrow? A spear? Traps? If she’s takin’ down boars, though, I would imagine it’d have t’ be the latter two.”

“All three, actually,” Bard answered. “She’s most skilled with a bow, but still quite deadly with a spear an’ her traps are really good, too.”

“Hm. Kili an’ her would get along, then,” Nori murmured. “You don’t see many dwarves knowin’ how to use bows. Most o’ us are too short.”

Bard nodded in agreement. “Aye, that’s true. But, being half-dwarf, Lovisa’s taller than you lot. She _almost_ reaches my chin, and I’m just under six foot.” He quietly laughed as he saw the looks of awe in the dwarves.

“That’s tall, even for a half-dwarf,” Ori mumbled, his eyes wide.

Bofur looked impressed. “She’d be like a giantess if ever she were t’ go t’ Erebor.” As he spoke, smoke furled from his mouth. “She’d probably leave everyone in awe.”

“That would depend on how big her beard is,” Dwalin stated. “Or if she even has one. From what I’ve heard, half-dwarves don’t have nearly as nice o’ facial hair as full-blooded dwarves.”

“She doesn’t a full beard, but she does have herself a fine set o’ muttonchops,” Bard told him. “At least, she did when I last saw her. She may have more by this point.” He glanced past the dwarves when he saw Baylee come back into the room, the refilled drinks on her platter. A small smile came to his lips as he watched her hand his children their drinks, though he was a bit surprised to see that she served it in goblets. “Did you run out o’ normal cups and have t’ use the fancy stuff?” he asked her.

She shook her head as she started to walk behind the table’s occupants. “No. I just thought the two might want t’ feel a wee bit fancy is all,” she chirped in reply, setting a tankard down beside Bofur and then Nori. “They are a prince an’ princess, after all. Also, Galiene told me t’ let you lads know that your dinner will be arrivin’ shortly. She’s just finishin’ up with the carving.” A tankard appeared next to Bard and then Fili.

“How long will it be until you hostesses will be eatin’?” Ori questioned before thanking her as she handed him drink.

“That is a question that cannot be answered,” she said. “We’ve a whole common room t’ tend to before we can get a break. Though, I’ve been hearin’ talk of clearing the floor for music an’ dancing after dinner finishes up, so we might be able t’ steal a few bites t’ eat while everyone’s busy with that.”

“Maybe we should have brought a few of Bombur’s sons to help out,” Fili chuckled, his brow rising. “Though, I have to admit, I’m surprised there’s this many people here…” Lifting his cup, he took a drink of his cider.

“Oh, you shouldn’t be,” Baylee said. “Whenever Bard an’ his bairns come t’ visit, the place gets packed. An’ since word got out that _you’re_ here as well, it’s a tight fit even for someone as small as me.”

Bard shook his head. “I honestly don’t know why they come here when they see me…Most o’ them have known me since I was a child myself. You would expect them to be sick of seeing me by this point.”

“How do we know everyone’s here for Fili an’ Bard, though?” Bofur teased. “Y’never know, they might all be here because they heard Galiene was roastin’ a whole hog.” He offered the lass his pipe again and she took it.

“That could very well be true, come t’ think of it,” Bard laughed, his brow rising. He watched Baylee started to take in a mouthful of the smoke; from the corner of his eye, he saw Warren lean into the room.

“Baylee Braddock! What d’you think you’re doing!?” Warren scolded.

Her eyes shot open and she quickly dropped the pipe back into Bofur’s hands. “N-Nothing, papa!” she squeaked, trying her best to look innocent. If being caught holding the pipe hadn’t been incriminating enough, though, the smoke furling from her nose and mouth was. “Do you need somethin’?”

Ignoring the snickers from the dwarves and Bard, Warren cocked his brow. “For you t’ not steal anymore puffs o’ pipes for one,” he told her, his voice bland. As much as he wanted to give her a proper scolding, he would withhold it—for now, at least. Shaking his head, he looked at the lads. “Galiene was wantin’ know if you lot would rather have roasted vegetables or salad with your main entrée.” Not at all to his surprise, almost all the dwarves answered ‘roasted vegetables’, but Bard, Bofur, and Fili requested salad. With the orders in mind, he returned to the kitchen.

“Salad?” Dwalin repeated, his brow rising as he looked at the prince. “Are yeh feelin’ alright, Fili?” he asked with a snort. “Yeh almost never go for salad.”

The prince shrugged, a grin on his lips. “I like salad. I think it’d be a nice side with the pork.”

Bofur nodded in agreement. “Aye, it will. It won’t weigh us down when it comes time t’ dance later, either!” He stole a glance over at Baylee, seeing that she was subtly slipping from the room; he hoped she wouldn’t be too tired to dance later…

Nori shook his head. “It’s just a bunch o’ leaves,” he said. “Don’t know why you’d enjoy eatin’ those.”

“Leaves with flavor,” Fili corrected, wiggling his finger somewhat scoldingly.

“Disgusting flavor,” Ori said with a frown.

“ _Refreshing_ flavor,” Bard corrected. He wasn’t sure if it was the three tankards of ale he had already consumed or what, but he found himself enjoying the company of the dwarves a great deal more than he expected—Dwalin’s, especially. He remembered Dwalin being one of the more surly members of the group when he had first met the company eight years ago.

Fili took a drink of his cider. “And it’s not like it’s going to be _just_ leaves. Salads usually have other vegetables as well as dressing to go with them.”

Shaking his head, Bifur stuck his head out. “While salad is alright _sometimes_ , it doesn’t need t’ be served alongside a whole hog. Roasted vegetables, baked apples, an’ plenty o’ rolls is what a dinner like this needs.”

Bard leaned back in his chair and quietly chuckled. “You lot are quite passionate about your dislike o’ salads. Almost as bad as Baylee an’ Will’s hatred of carrot cake.”

The lads (save for Bofur) stared at him in shock. “Those two hate carrot cake!?” Ori gasped.

“Aye, they do. Quite fiercely, too,” the king said. “They claim that it’s dry an’ has horrible seasoning and—what’re you laughing about over there, Bofur?”

There was a cheeky grin on his lips as everyone looked at him. “They hate _almost_ all carrot cake,” he corrected. “They _adored_ Gerdi’s.”

Now it was Bard’s turn to look shocked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait…what?” he questioned. “They ate carrot cake and _enjoyed_ it?”

Bofur nodded. “Aye, they did. Baylee thought it was just a spice cake with raisins at first, so when I told her it was carrot cake, she had quite the start. When she ate her second piece, she went lookin’ for the little pieces o’ carrot to see if I was lyin’ to her. When she found them, she was quite shocked. Will darn near fainted when she told him he was eatin’ carrot cake.”

“That’s because it was so moist an’ soft!” The lads looked up in time to see Will bringing in a large platter of neatly presented pork parts while Warren carried two large serving bowls of roasted vegetables and one medium-sized serving bowl of salad. Behind them came Wenna, a stack of plates, a stack of napkins, and a bundle of silverware in hand.

“Mahal bless me, that smells delicious,” Nori murmured, his eyes widening at the sight.

“Mahal bless me, that _looks_ delicious,” Dwalin mumbled, a grin spreading across his lips.

Warren chuckled, setting a bowl of roasted vegetables at either end of the table. “I assure you, it tastes even better than it looks,” he said. He offered Bard the salad bowl first, since he was king.

With Will and Warren arranging the food, Wenna carefully made her way around the table, laying down a plate, a knife, a fork, and a napkin in front of everyone. She glanced over at Ori as he picked up his fork only to poke at a bit of pork skin. His eyes widened slightly when he found that it was hard, making the young woman chuckle.

“It’s delicious,” she told him. “I like t’ get a bit of the meat an’ put it on the skin before eatin’ it. You get the yummy flavor o’ both while also getting the nice crunch from the skin.”

He blinked in surprise. “That’s the _skin_?” he questioned, looking at her. Seeing her nod, he looked back at it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen pig skin that crispy or that color before…”

“Really?”

“Aye. I mean, I’ve had crispy skin before, but nothing like this.” He picked up a small piece of it and tapped it against the ceramic of his plate. “This is almost like an edible rock.” Then, shrugging, he popped it into his mouth.

Wenna quietly snorted, an amused smile on her lips as she heard his teeth crunching it up. “Good, isn’t it?”

He nodded heartily, a smile coming to his lips as he swallowed the bite. “That _is_ good!”

“You’ll want t’ try and get as much as you can before the others realize how good it is,” she jokingly warned. “Because I assure you, it’s goin’ t’ go _fast_.”

* * *

Almost an hour later found the hostesses getting a well-deserved break. The women were gathered around the well, each with a plate of food resting on their laps and a tankard of drink on the ground beside them.

“The prince seems quite polite so far, don’t you think?” Primrose commented. She plucked up a larger bit of pork and tore it into three pieces before popping one into her mouth.

“Aye, he is!” Rosalyn agreed. “An’ he looks so young compared to the others. Even younger than Ori.”

“That’s because he’s only ninety-two,” Baylee told her. She crunched into a piece of skin, a small, silly smile coming to her lips.

Rosamunde giggled, her brow rising. “‘ _Only’_ ninety-two. That’s over thrice our age!”

Wenna snorted. “It’s still young for dwarves,” she said, her mouth partially filled with food. She picked up her tankard and took a drink. “In human years, he wouldn’t be more than twenty-five.”

“ _That_ young? Really?” Primrose questioned, a brow rising. “That doesn’t seem right—he looks about our age!”

Baylee cracked up. “Prim, we’re only thirty! There’s not that big o’ a difference in the ages. Anyway, his beard helps him look a wee bit older.” She took a long drink from her tankard before setting her plate on the ground. Rising to her knees, she turned around and, reaching up, dunked her tankard into the bucket of well water.

A dramatic sigh left Primrose’s mouth. “We’re thirty and yet, only two of us are on track to be married before we’re forty. An’ one of them doesn’t even know which lad she wants to pick yet!”

Rosalyn laughed, giving her a small nudge. “Not my fault you’re so picky, Prim. You’re always dreamin’ of a prince in shinin’ armor coming to whisk you away—you need t’ dream a little lower to the ground.” She held her cup out to Baylee with a small ‘please’.

“An’ to dream of someone in tarnished armor,” Baylee added, taking the cup. She dunked it into the bucket as well before passing it back, a few drops of water dripping from both her hand and the cup onto the back of Wenna’s neck.

“Why tarnished armor?” Rosamunde questioned, her brow raised.

“Because if his armor is shinin’, it means he hasn’t done any fightin’ in it,” Wenna answered, her nose scrunched up as she tried to use her sleeve to dry the back of her neck. “If you want a real warrior, look for the ones in the beaten an’ battered armor.”

Baylee nodded in agreement as she turned back around and plucked up her plate again. “Aye. An’ they’re usually not the handsome young lads you think they are. A lot o’ times, they’re closer in appearance t’—”

“Rán?” Primrose interject with a small, teasing grin. “Because he certainly looks like a warrior _and_ a handsome young lad.” She watched Baylee’s cheek turn pink.

“He may look young,” Rosamunde countered, “but he’s probably around Mister Braddock’s age.

“How do you figure that?” Rosalyn asked.

“He’s raised Ashailyn since she was a baby,” Baylee answered. “An’ he said he was around forty years old when she was born. Given that she’s in her early twenties…” She shrugged and ate a bit more of her dinner.

Primrose frowned slightly. “Really? I didn’t know that…Then again, he _is_ a half dwarf. I shouldn’t be this surprised.”

Wenna chuckled. “I didn’t know that, either. I’m surprised t’ hear that he’s the one who raised Ashailyn.” Her smile then faded slightly. “Ugh, if Rán was nearly forty, then how old was his father when he sired Ashailyn…?”

At that, varying expressions of disgust came to the five women’s faces.

“Let’s change the topic,” Rosamunde quickly suggested. “Do you lasses think it’ll be this busy again tomorrow night?”

“I hope not,” Rosalyn sighed. “It’s not even close t’ closing and I’m ready to sleep.”

Wenna shook her head, making a feigned sound of disappointment. “You’re sayin’ that and the dancing hasn’t even started yet? We really need t’ toughen you up if you can’t handle one busy night.” A cheeky grin came to her lips as Primrose leaned over and nudged her.

“Don’t try to scare her away now,” she jokingly scolded. “Mum’s been enjoying how she’s helping with the dinner dishes more often because of this job.”

“Anyway,” Wenna added, “once the dancing starts, we’re pretty much done for the night. Aye, we’ll have t’ refill drinks now and again, but no one’s goin’ t’ be eating since all the tables an’ chairs will be piled up against the wall.”

“But what about _afterwards_?” Rosamunde questioned. “Won’t we have t’ put all the tables an’ chairs back once everyone’s gone home or back t’ bed?”

“Nope. Those usually get dealt with in the morning,” Wenna answered.

“Actually, if me an’ papa are sober enough, we usually do it,” Baylee said. “Uncle Richard an’ Will help if they’re sober enough, too.”

Primrose chuckled, a teasing smile coming to her lips. “I’m sure a certain half-dwarf would be more than willing to help out if you asked, too.”

At that, Baylee frowned slightly. “While I’m sure he would, Prim, he’s got an injured arm, remember?”

A confused expression came to Primrose’s face, but it lasted only a few seconds as she quickly remembered that Rán did, indeed, have an injured arm. “I forgot about that,” she admitted, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “With him up and walking about again, it’s an easy thing to forget.”

“I’m sure Baylee will be able t’ sweet talk a full-blooded dwarf or two into helpin’, though,” Rosalyn giggled. She watched as Baylee’s cheeks flushed red once more.

Baylee would have replied, but seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she looked over at the inn. Through the window, she could see people carrying chairs around. She could also see Will beginning to open the windows so it wouldn’t get too warm inside. “Looks like they’re already gettin’ prepped for the dancin’,” she instead commented.

“Should we hurry up an’ go help with things?” Rosamunde questioned.

“No, no—we’re on break and everyone knows that,” Primrose told her. “Anyway, we’ve been talking so much, we’ve barely touched our plates.”

“Speak for yourself!” Wenna teasingly scoffed. “I’m ready t’ go see if Galiene will let me steal anymore skin an’ fatty bits.”

Rosamunde shook her head, laughing. “You’re so obsessed with the skin! It tastes good, but I don’t think it’s anythin’ to obsess over. Other than its crispiness, you can get the same flavor by roasting a pork belly over a fire.”

“You underestimate how rare it is for me t’ get something this good.” Wenna’s voice was a bit dry. “I live with my sister an’ brother-in-law, neither o’ who are good cooks. There’s a reason I eat all my meals here.”

“Isn’t your sister the one who managed t’ nearly burn down your house because she tried t’ use flour t’ douse a grease fire?” Primrose questioned.

A groan left Wenna’s mouth and she nodded. “Aye, she was…You would think she’d know that that was a stupidly dangerous thing t’ do, considerin’ our parents told us t’ _never_ bring a candle near the mill when we were grinding flour.”

Baylee gently patted her on the shoulder. “At least she knows better now. An’ at least she knows better than t’ use water t’ put out a grease fire, aye?”

Wenna gave her a long look. “Do not underestimate my sister’s lack o’ knowledge when it comes t’ the kitchen. She works wonders on a loom, but not over a hearth.”

“How do those two eat, then?” Rosalyn asked, a frown on her lips.

“My brother-in-law does the cookin’. He knows his way around a kitchen better than her, but he’s still not a very good cook.”

“No wonder you practically begged papa t’ hire you on as a hostess,” Baylee chuckled, her brow raised. “If I had t’ deal with such bad cooks, I’d look for work where I got free food, too.”

Her cheeks turning a bit pink, Wenna started to stand up. “Well…that an’ I really did need the money,” she smiled. “Still do need the money, but not nearly as bad.” Brushing off the back of her dress, she started to head for the kitchen.

“I think I hear the music starting up,” Rosamunde said, her head tilting slightly in an attempt to hear better. “Hm. Or maybe it’s just the musicians tunin’ their fiddles.”

“I wonder if I’ll get t’ dance with a handsome lad tonight?” Primrose sighed.

Rosalyn snorted. “There are plenty o’ lads in there t’ choose from, Prim,” she said. “An’ plenty of them are handsome, too. The problem is finding one who lives up to _your_ definition o’ handsome.”

A small pout came to Primrose’s lips. “You know what I mean!”

Baylee let out a small laugh. “You want t’ dance with one o’ the rangers is what you mean.”

Rosalyn and Rosamunde giggled as their sister let out another sigh, this one more defeated than anything. “Yes, I’d like t’ dance with one of the rangers. But I know you three do, too!”

Rosalyn shook her head. “Oh, no—I’ve already got my man, Laketown born and raised. I just need t’ find Bors in that crowd.” She popped a bit of meat into her mouth, chewing it slowly.

“Shouldn’t be hard, considerin’ how orange his hair is,” Baylee smiled. “Though, you may want t’ look for him from the second floor, that way you could see above the crowd.”

“That’s actually a good idea.” A thoughtful expression came to her face as she picked up another bit of meat. “It’d also be easier for you three t’ look for dance partners from up there, too.”

Rosamunde shook her head. “I know exactly who I’m goin’ to ask for a dance. I just hope doesn’t mind having a to dance with someone a foot an’ a half shorter than him.”

Primrose cocked a brow. “Who’re you going to ask, then?” she questioned.

“Hunil.”

The other three looked at her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. While Hunil was still fairly handsome, he was the least attractive of the rangers and was often overlooked in favor of Nakara and Rán.

“Aye, Hunil,” Rosamunde confirmed. “I know he’s not the first pick for Prim an’ ‘Lee, but I think he’s quite the sweetheart _and_ he’s handsome to boot.” She took a long drink from her tankard before setting it back down. “Therefore, I call dibs on him for dancin’ tonight.”

Primrose quietly giggled, her brow rising. “We’ll know you’ve called dibs on him, but will the other lasses in there know?” she teased. She watched as her younger sister’s eyes widened slightly in realization. “It was just a joke, Rosa,” she assured her. “I’m sure you’ve plenty o’ time before the dancing actually starts.”

“Aye, she does,” Baylee said, peering through the window again. She was more than a little surprised to see some of the smaller tables being carried up the stairs. “They’re still movin’ tables and chairs around. From the looks o’ it, they’re actually carryin’ some o’ the tables upstairs.” Her brows furrowed slightly; she didn’t think there had been _that_ many people in the inn that night.

“Really? I don’t think you’ve ever had t’ move tables upstairs before.” Primrose blinked and, leaning over, also gazed through the window, though she had to squint slightly. “How can you see anything that’s going on in there from all the way over here? Everyone just blends together.”

“Well, I can’t tell who’s doin’ what—well, except there goes Bors, helpin’…aye, that’s papa he’s helpin’ carry a table upstairs. But I only recognize them because o’ papa’s height and Bors’ hair.” She popped a bit of roasted carrot and potato into her mouth.

Primrose nodded slowly in understanding, though she didn’t quite believe her. “I’ll take your word for it,” she chuckled. Looking down at her plate, she found it mostly empty. “Well, I don’t know about you lasses, but I think I’m goin’ to call it quits on food. The last thing I want is t’ be dancing on a full stomach an’ end up getting sick.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Rosalyn murmured. She looked down at her plate, a small frown on her lips.

“Aye, it is,” Rosamunde agreed. A small pout then came to her lips. “But it’s so good…”

Baylee gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry—there is _plenty_ o’ hog left over. I’m sure if you don’t get your fill o’ it tonight, you’ll be able t’ get some more tomorrow.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “An’ probably the next day. An’ the day after that.”

“Hmm…No, I think it’ll all be gone by the day after tomorrow,” Primrose chuckled. Balancing her plate atop her tankard, she stood up and brushed the back of her dress off. “Galiene’s cooking doesn’t last long around here, especially if there are dwarves around t’ eat it. And being that we’ve two more dwarves staying with us…” Her brow rose in amusement, watching as her sisters also got to their feet.

“Aren’t you comin’, ‘Lee?” Rosalyn asked.

She shook her head, having been in the middle of chewing a bite. “No,” she said when she swallowed. “I’m goin’ to finish my meal before headin’ in. I’m not sure how much dancin’ I’ll be doin’ anyway, given how tired I am.”

They nodded. “Well, hopefully we’ll see you soon,” Rosamunde chirped. “We’ll be sure t’ let your da’ and Will know you’re still out here for you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, tearing a bit of meat in half. She watched as her friends started to walk away before letting out a quiet sigh. ‘Finally, I can have some quiet,’ she thought, letting her eyes fall shut; there was an ache forming at the base of her neck. Leaning back against the well, she tilted her head back, resting it against the cool stone. ‘On days when I’m _this_ tired…quiet is all I want. Which is a shame, given that there’s music and dancing about to start up.’

Feeling around for her tankard, she felt the metal against her fingers and took hold of the handle. She took a long, slow drink from it before setting it back down and letting her eyes open once more. Across the way, she could see the door to the inn opening up, allowing for the light inside to come spilling out into the darkening evening.

A pair of figures stepped out; at first, she couldn’t tell who they were thanks to the light behind them. But as they closed the door, she found that they were Dwalin and Ori. They were talking in Khuzdul, with the two of them laughing at something. Then, taking Dwalin’s hand, Ori stood on his tiptoes, kissing the taller dwarf’s cheek before leading him away up the street.

‘I _knew_ it,’ Baylee thought, a small grin on her lips.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone~! I just want to give you a heads up that I'll be taking a break from posting for few weeks. Like I said on the latest chapter of Nightmares, I've pretty much used up my buffers thanks to a bit of writer's block these past few months. I will come back and post as soon as I get around 3 chapters written out which, now that I'm getting to the juicy parts of both Nightmares and Azying, shouldn't take too long, as I've been wanting to write these scenes for quite a while. I might still post a chapter or two of Of Sparrow and Drystan, however, since those chapters are extremely short compared to my hobbit fic chapters.

The next morning was, unsurprisingly, very quiet. After the dancing and drinking of the previous night, almost all the guests had decided to sleep in. Most of the staff did, too, it seemed.

Though it was usually around the time when Galiene and Gawen arrived, Baylee found herself still alone in the kitchen. To her great relief, she hadn’t had a single nightmare the previous night, leaving her feeling awake and somewhat refreshed that morning—and a good thing, too, considering she had quite a bit of bread to make that morning.

‘Once I get these loaves made, I’ll need to take them into the laundry so they can cool off and get exposed to more air, making them stale,’ she told herself. ‘And tomorrow, Galiene will be filling them with stew…but the question is if she’ll be making pork stew. I didn’t see how much hog was leftover last night, but I don’t think it would have been very much…’

“Lady Baylee?” She wasn’t terribly surprised when, as she looked up, she found Rán standing in the doorway.

“Morning, Rán,” she said with a small smile. “I’m surprised you’re up. Everyone else seems t’ be sleeping in this morning. The kettle’s hot, by the way.”

He nodded, stepping into the kitchen to get himself a mug and some tea. “I did not drink very much last night—unlike most of my companions.” A small laugh left his mouth. “I am glad everyone was able to have a bit of fun…however, I did notice that you were not present for most of it.” Glancing over his shoulder as he pulled down a mug, he wore a bit of concern on his face.

“Aye, I’m afraid I was rather tired yesterday thanks t’ a combination of a poor night’s sleep an’ there being so many guests t’ tend to.” There was a small, apologetic smile on her lips as she worked some bread dough around on the floured countertop. “As such, I went t’ bed fairly early. I did get t’ be lulled t’ sleep by the music, faint though it was.”

“I had been wondering why you were calmer than normal yesterday. But, it would appear that the full night’s sleep was worth it, given that you seem to have more energy today. Would you like some tea, by the way?”

“No, thank you; I already have some.” She used the back of her wrist to brush a bit of hair from her forehead. “I do admit, I feel like I’ve a bunch more energy today than yesterday—so far, anyway. With all the bread I’m makin’ this morning, all that energy might be gone by noon.” She laughed, shaking her head as she added a bit more flour to the counter and onto the lump of dough.

Grabbing himself a tin of tea, Rán turned to watch her for a moment. “Why do you need to make so much?”

“Galiene will be makin’ stew tomorrow an’ she wants t’ serve it in bread bowls.” She let out another laugh. “At least I don’t need t’ make fruit bread for a bit—there’s still plenty o’ that left, though I’m sure it’s not goin’ to last much longer with Fili here.”

“Would you like some help?” he offered. “I know I have only one good arm, but I can at least help with kneading.”

She thought for a moment; her arms _were_ starting to get tired, as this was the sixth batch of dough she had made that morning. “Aye, some help would be greatly appreciated,” she replied.

“Let me finish preparing my tea and then I will wash my hands.” He made quick work of adding the tealeaves to the strainer before returning the tin to the shelf. With mug in hand, he went over to the hearth to finish preparing his tea.

While he did that, Baylee dusted the counter with even more flour, ensuring that Rán’s side would have enough to prevent sticking. Then, plucking up a nearby knife, she cut the wad of dough in half, trying to get the two halves as equal as possible. By the time Rán walked up beside her, she had the dough ready for him to knead.

“Do you know what sort of stew Lady Galiene will be making to go into these?” he questioned. Pressing his uninjured hand into the flour, he began to work the dough.

“I don’t, I’m afraid. It all depends on how much o’ the hog she’s got leftover from last night.” She stole a look up at him; due to his injury, he hadn’t been able to shave all week. As such, the lower half of his face was now covered by a thick, auburn beard. Though he still looked handsome, she thought he looked better without the beard. “Did you enjoy the meal last night, by the way?”

He nodded, a grin coming to his lips. “I very much did! I must say, that was one of the best meals I have had in my life—I have never tasted pork that was so perfectly seasoned and juicy.” Even though he was using only one hand, he was making quick work of kneading the dough. “And the strawberry-rhubarb crisp was utterly delicious. When Lady Adela wakes up, I will have to give her my compliments.”

Baylee quietly laughed, her brow rising. “Aye, it’s a bit fortuitous that she works for us now—it’s generally agreed upon that she’s the best dessert-maker in the city. Even the simplest o’ desserts turn out downright amazing when she makes them.”

“I can certainly see why. While the desserts prior to her arrival were delicious, they have only become even more so of late.” He got a bit more flour on his hand before returning it to the dough.

“Her brother, Ned, is just as good with desserts as she is, but he’s best known for his pies. He lives down in Laketown an’ has himself a bakery called the Pie Hole. It’s one o’ the most profitable businesses down there.”

“Are the pies he makes hand pies or the sort made in bakeware?”

“Both. He also makes savory pies an’ meat pies, but his best sellers are his fruit pies.” She poked her dough and watched as the divot left by her finger remained unmoving. Knowing this meant the bread wasn’t properly kneaded yet, she went back to pushing and turning it.

“It sounds like a bakery I will have to visit should I ever get the chance to go to the city.” He glanced over at her in time to see her blow a stray lock of hair from her face. Though he was tempted to reach over and move it for her, he managed to resist the urge, keeping his good hand busy with the dough.

She nodded in agreement. “It really is. If ever you _do_ get the chance t’ go there, you have t’ be sure t’ also try what he calls the handheld-potpie, though. It’s just what it sounds like—a potpie, but handheld. The chicken ones are my favorite, but it’s a bit hard for me t’ finish a whole one on my own.”

His head tilted; hand pies were normally a bit on the smaller side. “How big are they?”

She held her hands up, forming somewhat of a circle with her fingers. “About like this,” she said, the shape the size of a small dinner plate. “The crust is more like a mix between a trencher an’ a pie crust, so it’s hearty enough t’ hold the filling, but light enough that it doesn’t take up all the room in your stomach.”

“A trencher?” he repeated, his brow rising. “What is that?”

“Hm?” She looked up at him. “You don’t have trenchers in Dorwinion?”

“We have trenchers, but they are the people who dig trenches. Not something you eat, unless you happen to be an orc,” he said with a chuckle.

Baylee stuck her tongue out at the thought. “Well, here, trenchers are flat, semi-hard pieces o’ bread that are used like plates. We don’t use them much here at the inn, since I already have so many other types o’ bread to make, but a lot of people use them as their dishes.”

“I would imagine that they are quite delicious once they had soaked up all the juices from whatever meal they held.” He poked his dough and saw that it sprung back when he pulled his hand away.

“They can be, aye. Most folk, though, simply toss them away! They feed them t’ their dogs or their chickens or pigs.” She shook her head. “All that flavor, wasted.”

His brow rose as he looked down at her. “You…are joking, right? Who would toss away perfectly edible food like that? Also, my dough is ready for rising.”

She nodded in understanding and gave her own dough another poke test. Seeing that it passed, she stood on her tip toes and, leaning forward, used a spoon to scoop some butter from the crock. “I wish I was joking,” she told him, “but I’m not, sadly. A lot o’ people just toss them out without a care.”

“I can understand tossing the parts that had not collected any juices from the meal, but even the parts that did?” He shook his head. “That is wasting good food.” Leaning against the counter, he watched her while she spread the butter around the inside of a large, wooden bowl. “But, then again, I was also once a baker. The thought of someone tossing out bread is one that infuriates me a bit, especially given how tedious it is to _make_ bread.”

“Aye, I agree. I can understand a few bites or some crust, but the entire thing?” She shook her head again, picking up the two dough balls and plopping them into the bowl. Pushing them around and turning them over, she made sure their surfaces were covered by butter before she put a kitchen towel over the top of the bowl. Lifting it up, she carried it to the back counter, where she had four other large bowls sitting, each with a towel atop it. The rightmost bowl, though, she lifted the towel on and peeked under it. ‘Hm. Another half hour or so,’ she told herself.

“Was that the last of the bread you will be making, my lady? Or will there be more?” Rán questioned, watching as she checked the other bowls.

“Aye—at least, o’ this kind of bread. I’ll be making some quick bread later, but that takes next t’ no kneading.” She grabbed the second bowl in the lineup and brought it over to the counter. “But now it’s time t’ form the loaves.” Removing the towel from the top of the bowl, she tipped it over onto the counter.

Rán’s eyes widened; though he knew he should have expected to see just how much the bread had risen, he was still shocked to see that it was more than double in size—or, rather, it was double the size of dough he and Baylee had just worked on.

“Could you punch the air out o’ this and divide it into eight pieces for me, please?” she asked him. “I need t’ pull the last batch out o’ the oven.”

“Of course,” he replied. While Baylee went over to the stove, he started to press down on the mass of dough.

Using the peel to open the oven door while she stood off to the side, Baylee smiled when she saw six, perfectly golden-brown loaves of bread inside. She scooped them out two at a time, letting them slide off the wood and onto the counter. Then, using the handle of the peel, she closed the oven up again.

“You use that just as well as a warrior uses a weapon,” Rán joked, his brow raised. He was in the middle of dividing the dough up into eighths just as she had asked. “Perhaps you should use that instead of a spear?”

She snorted at the idea. “Except it would be far too unwieldy, don’t you think? Given how there’s this big, flat paddle end.”

“It would be good for deflecting blows and stopping arrows, you must admit.” Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, he glanced towards the doorway only to find that Bofur had just reached the bottom of the stairs and was making his way towards the kitchen. He pretended to not notice, instead turning his head towards Baylee when she returned to stand beside the counter. She had brought with her a deep pan, its bottom and sides already coated in butter.

Setting it down between them, she chuckled. “As true as that is, I don’t think I’d want t’ use it on the battle—” Her eyes shot open and her cheeks grew hot as, when she turned to look at Rán, he took her by surprise and silenced her with a kiss.

After a few seconds, he pulled back, a small, somewhat apologetic smile on his lips. “I apologize for interrupting you,” he murmured, “but I just could not resist.” Before standing upright, he stole a second kiss from her, making her cheeks grow even redder. His smile turned less apologetic as he admired her flustered expression. It was endearing to him how she always got so bashful whenever he kissed her.

Baylee fumbled to find any words to say; the kiss came so suddenly, her mind had come to a complete halt and she had forgotten what she had been talking about just a few seconds ago. Before she could remember their conversation topic, however, she looked past Rán only to feel her stomach lurch and begin filling with guilt.

Just feet from the kitchen was Bofur, his eyes wide and his feet rooted to the spot.

Seeing that she was looking beyond him, Rán turned his head. He was just _barely_ able to hold back the victorious grin he wanted to wear and instead offered Bofur a relatively friendly smile. “Good morning, Master Bofur,” he said, his tone the usual polite-but-cool one he used whenever speaking with his rival.

Regaining his composure, Bofur continued on his way into the kitchen. “Rán,” he said with a stiff nod of acknowledgement and a bit of a cold voice. His tone and posture softened when he looked at Baylee, however. “Mornin’, Baylee. What’re you making this morning?”

Though the guilt still filled her stomach, she felt a bit of relief when she realized that Bofur wasn’t upset with her. “Bread bowls for the stew Galiene will be makin’ tomorrow.”

“Ooh, stew served in bread bowls is my favorite,” he said with a broad grin. “Do you know what sort o’ stew it’s going t’ be or…?”

“No idea. It might be pork stew, but it all depends on how much o’ the hog is left.”

He nodded in understanding before hopping up onto the counter to grab himself a mug for his tea. “Well, whatever sort o’ stew it is, I’m sure it’ll be delicious—doubly so if it’s served in one o’ your bread bowls.”

She chuckled, beginning to roll one of the eighths of dough into a ball on the table; she held it loosely, letting her fingers and palm act as more of a cage while rolling the dough around. “How did you enjoy last night, by the way? Was it nice, gettin’ t’ catch up with Fili?”

“Aye, it was! Seems the lad’s been fairly busy with preparing for this visit an’ the one down t’ Laketown, so it was nice he got t’ relax a wee bit. It actually surprises me that he’s takin’ it so seriously.” He slipped off the counter only to climb back up when he went to pick out a tea.

“He is a crown prince. He _should_ be taking affairs such as these seriously,” Rán commented, ignoring the small glare Bofur threw his way. Having finished rolling one of the balls of dough, he moved to place it on the pre-buttered pan only to stop halfway. “Would you like these rolls touching or would you prefer to have space between them?”

“A bit o’ space between them, please.”

He placed the dough about an inch and a half away from the other doughball before moving to form another one. Glancing over at Bofur, he saw the dwarf was off the counter once more and filling his tea strainer.

“Anyway, aye, it was nice. I’m actually a bit surprised that he’s not awake yet—Fili’s always been an early riser.”

Baylee quietly laughed. “It doesn’t surprise me that he’s sleepin’ in. Last night was a busy night for him—an’ it doesn’t help that he had a belly full o’ fruit bread. Somethin’ tells me the combination wore him out more than he let on.” 

“You’re more than likely right about that,” Bofur grinned. “If you party hard, you’ve got t’ sleep even harder,” he added jokingly. Taking his mug over to the stove, he poured some hot water into it. “Is there anything I can do t’ help you, lass? Maybe get some breakfast goin’?”

“That would be lovely, actually,” she smiled. “It’s goin’ to be porridge this morning—with your choice o’ sides, o’ course.”

Rán turned his head slightly to look at her. “Porridge is a good choice after a night like last night,” he commented. “It should be easy on the stomachs of those who are hungover.”

She nodded in agreement. “That’s exactly why we picked porridge for this morning,” she said with a small chuckle. “We use that big copper pot, by the way,” she told Bofur, pointing at a large pot sitting on the counter against the wall. “I’m afraid you might need a stool t’ reach into it, though.”

“No problem with that, lass. Just tell me where t’ find the oats an’ the milk.”

“The oats are in the pantry, in that big, wooden box right up against the wall. For a full batch o’ porridge, we use about ten cups o’ oats; the measuring cup’s already in there.”

“Ten cups. Got it.” Grabbing a wooden spoon, he hooked it through the handle of the pot and dragged it towards him. When it was close enough, he put the spoon back before picking up the pot and heading into the pantry.

Baylee glanced over at Rán, checking to see how well his dough balls were coming along only to find that he was already on his last one. She, on the other hand, was only on her third.

“Would you like me to grab the next batch of dough?” he offered, quickly rolling the dough around on the counter. “Or will this be it for a while?”

“Aye, please grab another bowl,” she answered. “As well as another tray—I should have one already prepared on the other end o’ the counter.” She leaned forward, setting the dough onto the tray before grabbing the next wad for rolling.

He nodded and, after setting his own ball onto the pan, turned to fetch the next bowl. “I must admit, I am surprised to see that you have so much dough already rising,” he told her. “I know it is your job to make the breads for the inn, but this seems to be a bit much, even for you, my lady.”

She dismissively waved her hand. “It’s nothin’, really. Since I’ve had the kitchen all t’ myself most o’ the morning, I could get things done at my pace.”

“Which seems to be the pace of a racing rabbit,” he gently teased. Flipping the bowl over, he heard the gentle ‘plumf’ sound of the dough hitting the counter. Setting the bowl aside, he punched down the dough and kneaded it a few times.

“I’m not _that_ fast,” she snorted. “I just woke up early while everyone else slept in is all.” She glanced over her shoulder when Bofur came out of the pantry.

“What next, lass?” the dwarf asked. While he knew how to make porridge, he also knew there were many different recipes out there for the simple meal. And, as it turns out, the Tankard’s recipe was one of those different recipes.

“Half a scoop o’ sugar,” she instructed, “an’ then two tablespoons o’ salt.”

He nodded, moving across the kitchen to the bag of sugar. “Will I be usin’ milk or water in this?”

“Both.”

“Both?” the two males questioned.

“I have only ever heard of using one or the other in porridge,” Rán said, his brow rising. “Why both?” With the air punched out of the dough, he went to retrieve the second buttered pan.

She used the back of her wrist to push some hair from her face. “To save on milk,” she answered. “It can be a wee bit hard t’ come by at times, given that it’s got t’ come all the way from across town an’ from the southern parts o’ the Lonely Mountain.” Glancing over at Bofur, she caught him stealing a look at her while he measured out the half-scoop of sugar. A tender smile came to her lips and she watched his cheek turn the slightest bit pink.

“Where do you keep the milk stored, lass?” he then asked. “Down in the cellar?”

“Aye. I’ll show you where in just a tick; the icebox is a wee bit tricky t’ open.”

He nodded in understanding, sprinkling the sugar atop the oats. Then, replacing the scoop in the bag, he went to add salt to the pot.

While he did that, Baylee plucked up the tray already filled with dough balls and set it on the back counter. She carefully covered it with the dishtowel that had been covering the bowl it came from before pushing it towards the wall. With those now proofing, she turned back around to find Rán already dividing the dough into eighths.

“I’ll be right back,” she told him, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “Shouldn’t take us too long t’ get the milk.”

Rán nodded, giving her a warm smile. When she turned her back to him and headed for the pantry, he shot Bofur a warning glare.

Bofur narrowed his eyes in return, but said nothing as he walked past him. They both knew better than to start anything in the kitchen, let alone around Baylee. Doing his best to ignore the half-dwarf, Bofur followed Baylee into the pantry only to see her already disappearing down the steep steps.

“It always surprises me how much cooler it is down here,” he chuckled when he reached the bottom of the steps. “The kitchen’s so warm; comin’ down here is like switching over from summer to winter.”

She laughed, her brow rising as she plucked up the lantern. It was already lit, telling Bofur she had been down here at least once already. “It’s nice though, _especially_ after makin’ so much bread. An’ I’m not even done—I still have t’ bake most o’ it!” Waiting for him to catch up, she started to lead him through the cellar.

“I can’t imagine how hot that kitchen’s goin’ t’ be come summer,” he said with a small frown. “Especially with only the kitchen door t’ let in any airflow.” He followed after her, glancing around at the various shelves filled with jars of preserved foods, crocks of butter, and other foods that needed to keep cool.

“It makes us really wish we had more windows in there,” she laughed. “Instead of taking our breaks outside, we come down here—it gets even cooler once summer comes because papa orders extra ice from the mountain.”

“Makes sense. Don’t want it t’ warm up _too_ much down here, after all.” He watched her set the lantern down atop a long, metal box that stood as tall as his waist, about seven feet long, and about four feet wide. The lid, he noticed, was separated into three different sections, making him wonder if it had dividers on the inside. “That’s one o’ the biggest ice boxes I’ve ever seen.” He set the cooking pot down on the floor.

“Isn’t it?” she chuckled. “While it holds a lot o’ stuff, sometimes it feels like it doesn’t hold enough.” Turning towards him, she suddenly leaned over and pressed her lips against his.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he happily kissed her in return and his eyes drifted shut. When he felt her hand come to rest against his cheek, his lips curled into a smile while his arms slipped around her waist. He brought himself closer to her, a sense of calm washing over him.

The kiss ended after a moment and Baylee pressed her forehead against his. “I’m sorry you had t’ see Rán kiss me earlier,” she mumbled, her tone one of guilt. The feeling of safety and love washed over her as Bofur held her and she found herself wanting nothing more than to stay there in his arms forever.

“Why’re you sorry, lass?” he murmured. Reaching up with his free hand, he brushed some hair from her face and behind her ear. “Aye, I wasn’t very happy t’ see it, but it wasn’t like you initiated it or anythin’.”

“I know, but…I still feel bad, knowin’ that Rán most likely did it because he saw you comin’.” Her fingers brushed some wisps of hair up and out of his face for him.

He gave her an understanding smile, enjoying the feel of her fingers against his skin. “Lass, it’s one o’ the hazards o’ having a romantic rival.” His voice was teasing, but gentle. “Like I said, I wasn’t very happy t’ see it, but it wasn’t your fault. Anyway, he’s probably up there seethin’, thinkin’ I’m stealing kisses from you while we’re down here.”

She quietly giggled, “When, in fact, it’s _me_ who’s stealin’ the kisses.” To emphasize her words, she kissed him a second time. This one lasted quite a bit longer than the first, with her slipping her arms around his neck.

There was a bit of a dazed look on his face when the kiss finally ended and he let out a dreamy chuckle. “Careful, lass—kiss me like that again an’ I might start thinkin’ you’ve made your decision,” he jokingly warned. As he looked up at her, he admired how the flickering lantern light looked in the green of her eyes; it made it almost seem like flecks of gold were hidden among emeralds.

Baylee kissed him for the third time. “I have made my decision,” she unconsciously whispered against his lips. Upon realizing what she had said, she swallowed a bit hard and leaned back slightly; she felt a bit panicked, but upon seeing his wide-eyed expression, she couldn’t help but chuckle and ease up.

“Y-You…you have?” he murmured. She nodded and he swallowed hard. “Wh-who is it, then?”

She blinked, staring at him incredulously for a few seconds before bursting into a fit of giggles. The giggles quickly turned into full-out laughter, which only managed to confuse the poor dwarf.

“Wh-why’re you laughin’, lass?” he asked, finding himself quite glad that his arms were still around her. She was laughing so hard, he was afraid she was going to topple over. “What’s so funny?”

After a few moments, Baylee was able to compose herself enough to speak. “B-Bofur…you just asked who I picked.”

“Aye, I did,” he replied, still confused. “But you still haven’t said _who_ you picked.”

It took a great deal of willpower for her to not crack up all over again. “Think about it a wee bit, Bofur,” she told him, her hand rising up. She brushed her fingers against his cheek. “Who just said ‘kiss me like that again an’ I’ll think you’ve made your decision’?”

She watched as his brows furrowed slightly…Only for them to raise up as his eyes widened in realization. He stared up at her in shock, color coming to his cheeks and turning them beet red. “…I…am a bloody great idiot,” he mumbled. “Y-you’ve…you’ve really picked me, lass?”

Giggling again, she nodded. “Aye, it’s you,” she told him, moving his hat so she could press a kiss against his forehead. “An’ you’re not an idiot—you’re still just wakin’ up.” She felt him bring her a bit closer to him.

He continued to stare at her for a moment long before shaking his head slightly. “Why me, though?” he asked. “I’m not…I’m not young or handsome or charmin’ like Rán up there…”

“First o’ all, don’t you dare say you’re not handsome again because that’s an outright lie,” she told him, a small pout on her lips. “Second o’ all: the rest o’ that stuff doesn’t matter t’ me. Bein’ around you makes me feel safe an’ happy an’…well, loved.” She then let out a small sigh. “The only thing is…Before I realized that my heart had already chosen you, I promised Rán that he could steal me away for a day, since you got t’ keep me in Erebor overnight.”

“An’ you want him t’ think that you made your mind up _after_ spendin’ the day with him in order t’ be as fair as possible?”

She nodded. “Aye. So…I have t’ ask that you keep this between us for a little while. I know it’s goin’ t’ be hard, especially given that Rán’s still goin’ t’ be trying to kiss me an’—” She was silenced as Bofur kissed her.

“I’ve waited a few months. I can wait a lil’ while longer, especially since you’re a lass o’ your word,” he murmured reassuringly. He stole one final kiss from her before reluctantly leaning back. “An’ I _really_ hate t’ say it, but we should probably get the milk for this porridge an’ head back upstairs.”

“Aye, we probably should,” she agreed. Kissing the end of his nose, she moved over to the left half of the icebox. “This is the one where we keep the milk, cream, softer cheeses, an’ sometimes we even keep butter in here if we know we’re goin’ t’ need t’ make a pastry crust.” Contrary to what she had said upstairs, the latch for the icebox wasn’t tricky at all and she was able to lift the lid with ease.

“You keep cheeses in your icebox?”

“Aye, but just the softer ones, since we tend t’ bake those.” She leaned over, grabbing a large, ceramic pitcher. “Chilling them helps make it easier t’ cut them in half when we go t’ stuff them with dried fruits or bits o’ candied bacon. Can you hold the lantern over the pot, please?”

Grabbing the lantern, Bofur did as asked, holding it in such a way that as much light as possible shone down inside of it. “That makes sense—wait, did you just say _candied_ bacon?”

“Mhm.” She carefully started pouring the milk into the pot. “You sprinkle brown sugar over bacon strips an’ bake it in the oven instead o’ frying in a pan.”

“…I have never heard o’ such a thing. It sounds delicious, though!”

“It is good,” she grinned. “We don’t use it much—mostly in the autumn months, when we’re makin’ a lot o’ stuff with sweet potatoes.” When the milk reached a line that had been etched inside the pot, she stopped pouring.

A playful pout came to his lips. “You mean I have t’ wait four or five more months t’ try the candied bacon?” He held the lantern up higher so she could see into the icebox.

“Mmm…I might be able t’ convince Galiene t’ make some candied bacon one day soon.” Replacing the milk, she closed the lid of the box; she hopped, putting her weight on the lid to make sure it was securely closed. “Or maybe even Adela, considerin’ that some o’ her desserts have savory components to them.” She went to go pick up the cooking pot, but Bofur stopped her, handing her the lantern while he grabbed the pot instead.

“Bacon in dessert? That’s also something I’ve not heard of.” He followed along behind her as she made her way through the cellar and back towards the stairs. “I can understand puttin’ it in the baked cheeses, but _desserts_ …?” He shook his head.

“When you finally get t’ taste it, you’ll understand,” she chuckled. “It can go with _anything_.”

* * *

“This is looking nice! And you say it’s not even done?”

“Aye. Ori still needs t’ paint the main room an’ Will’s workin’ on the shelves. But it shouldn’t be too much longer until we’re done.”

Fili nodded in understanding as he looked around the room before making his way back towards the kitchen. “Are you having Will all of the furniture made or will you be commissioning some other woodworkers, too?”

“We’ve already commissioned other woodworkers for the personal items like our beds an’ bedside tables.” Bifur followed after him, his thumbs hooked through his beltloops. “We don’t want t’ overwhelm the poor lad.”

“Especially since he’s buildin’ all the furniture by his lonesome,” Bofur added with a nod. Fili and Bifur couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to have an extra spring in his step that day. “But he’s a fast worker. He made us some cabinet doors a few weeks ago an’ he did it in just a few hours.”

Fili’s brow rose and he chuckled. “Just cabinet doors? I can’t see why those would take very long.”

When they walked into the kitchen, Bifur pointed at the doors of the lower cabinets. They were obviously the new ones, being much richer in color than the others. Like the others, they had designs of ivy along the edges, with some of the leaves going entirely through the wood. “You were sayin’, lad?”

Leaning over, the prince ran his hand along one of the doors while both his brows rose in surprise. “Huh. This _is_ good craftsmanship,” he murmured. “And you said he was able to get this done in a few hours?”

“Mhm. Like I said, he’s a fast worker,” Bofur chuckled. “Haven’t seen him at a lathe yet, though, so I’m wonderin’ if it might slow him down.”

“Why would it slow him down?” Fili asked. “Is the waterflow too slow for it or something?”

Bifur lightly shook his head, smiling in amusement. “It’s not like the lathes we have in the mountain, where water makes it spin. It’s set up so the worker has t’ keep steppin’ on a pedal in order t’ make the thing spin.”

His brows furrowed. “And they’re carving at the same time?” The pair nodded. “I would imagine that makes it quite difficult to concentrate, then, considering you have to keep pumping your foot while handling your chisel…”

“Not too hard after the first five minutes or so.” The dwarves looked up as Will came in from the backyard, some wood shavings in his hair. “You get into a bit o’ a rhythm an’ next thing you know, you’ve got a finished chair leg or table leg.”

“So, not only does it help make square wood round, it also helps t’ pass the time?” Bofur’s brow rose slightly in amusement. “Sounds like a good machine t’ have, even if it requires lots o’ manual labor.”

Will nodded, running his hand through his hair; he frowned when a shower of wood shavings fell past his face and onto the floor. “I was actually goin’ t’ ask if it’s alright if I go an’ fetch my lathe from the Tankard,” he then said. Walking over to the wall, he grabbed the broom and went to go sweep up his mess.

“Aye, feel free,” Bifur told him. “Will you need any help with it? They can be heavy buggers, after all.”

“I’ve got mine built onto a wheeled platform for that very reason.” A small, but cheeky, grin came to his lips. “I got tired o’ having t’ rebuild it every time I went t’ a new job site when we were rebuildin’ the city, so I came up with a way t’ make it easier t’ transport.”

“He’s not just good for reachin’ the top shelf an’ buildin’ things,” Bofur joked. “He’s also got some brains all the way up there in that noggin o’ his.”

Fili snorted as Will blew a raspberry at the dwarf. “He has to have some brains to make up for all the ones you lost while drinking.”

It was Bofur’s turn to blow a raspberry.

“Now, now, lads,” Bifur laughed. “You best be behavin’ in front o’ the prince. We want t’ set a good example for wee lad, after all.” He laughed harder as Fili limped over and got him in a headlock before rubbing his knuckles against his scalp.

“It’s too late for behavin’,” Bofur snorted, watching the two begin to flat-out wrestle. “He’s already learned our bad manners!”

Will paused in his sweeping to watch the two wrestle. “Are they going t’ hurt each other, wrestlin’ that roughly?”

Bofur shook his head and hooked his thumbs through his beltloops. “Nah. This is just some friendly, no-stakes wrestlin’. If they were bein’ serious about it, there’d be a lot more swearin’ and things would be far more violent.”

As if on cue, Fili swore in Khuzdul as his right leg suddenly bent at a painful-looking angle. Will’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped the broom in shock; how was Fili not screaming in pain!? Seeing his expression, Bofur chuckled.

“Nothin’ t’ worry about, Will,” he assured him. “Fili’s got himself a fake leg.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good t’ know,” replied the human, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth.

“Ah, sorry about that, lad,” Bifur frowned. “My foot got pinched by your knee joint.” He helped Fili stand up, acting as a support while the prince stood on his left leg.

“It’s fine. It happens sometimes.” He half-laughed, half grunted as he finagled his leg back into place. “The harness for it is getting a bit worn out anyway, so I have to keep tightening it throughout the day.”

Bofur shook his head. “You really need t’ look into gettin’ a new leg, lad.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve been searching for a craftsman whose work I like enough and who can guarantee that I’ll get many years of use out of the thing.”

“Pardon me for askin’, but do you _always_ wear the fake leg?” Will questioned. “Or do you sometimes go without?”

“I try to wear it as much as possible,” Fili answered, wiggling his leg slightly to make sure his stump fit into the holder correctly. “There are some days when I use a crutch, but I hate using it since it takes away one of my hands and it’s more uncomfortable.”

Will nodded in understanding. “I can believe that. They dig into an’ bruise your armpit, no matter how much padding you wrap around them.”

Fili’s brow rose in amusement. “I see you’ve got experience with them.”

“Not me, actually, but my da’. After the war, he had t’ use a pair o’ crutches for nearly three months while his leg an’ hip healed. An’ now, my aunt might have t’ be using some while her tendon heals.”

The prince’s nose scrunched up slightly. “Tendon injuries are the most annoying,” he sighed, “ _especially_ leg tendons. I would much rather have an injured arm than an injured leg.”

“See, I’m the opposite,” Bofur stated. “I’m fine with sittin’ on my arse while my leg heals up, but if my arm’s hurt, that means I can’t do any work. An’ if I can’t do any work, well…” He shrugged.

“He gets like Baylee when she’s forced t’ sit down and take a break,” Bifur joked.

“Oh, blessings, you get _that_ antsy?” Will snorted, looking at Bofur. “If that’s the case, I _really_ hope you never hurt either o’ your arms.”

Bofur grinned cheekily. “So long as there isn’t another war comin’, I don’t think you’ll have t’ worry about that, lad,” he said, “because the only injuries I’ll be gettin’ on my arms from here on out are cuts and bruises from toymakin’.” He then paused a moment, a contemplative look on his face. “An’ maybe my tattoos retouched. Some o’ them are gettin’ a bit faded.”

“…You can get tattoos retouched?” Will asked.

A look of confusion came to Fili’s face, but before he could say anything, Bifur answered with, “Aye—in fact, it’s actually recommended for we dwarves t’ get them redone every few decades so the details stay sharp.” He then looked at the prince. “Remember, lad, humans don’t have the same culture surroundin’ tattoos as us.”

“That’s right—they think they’re worn by people of ill-repute, right?” Fili asked.

“For the most part,” Will answered. “Though, there are some who rather fancy them.” He chuckled, remembering how entranced Baylee had been at the sight of Bofur’s tattoos. Then, an apologetic smile came to his lips and he said, “I hate t’ cut this short, but I need t’ go get my lathe if I want t’ get the supports made for the shelf I’m workin’ on.”

“Aye, go on then,” Bofur smiled, making a shooing motion with his hands at him. “We’ll see you when you get back.”

“He’s a nice lad,” Fili commented once he heard the front door close. “He doesn’t seem like the sort who’d be a carpenter, though. With his size, I’d expect him to be more of a soldier or a mercenary.”

Bifur nodded in agreement. “That’s what we thought when we first met him. Though, he is apparently a very good warrior—their whole family is. Even wee Baylee.”

“While I can believe that of Warren and Will, I’m afraid I really can’t see such a small thing as her being a warrior,” the prince chuckled. “What would she use for a weapon? A kitchen knife?”

Bofur’s lips pursed slightly; Bifur quietly snickered at the expression. “I’ll have you know she used a sword an’ shield when she fought at the Battle o’ Five Armies,” he informed the prince. “An’ given how she lived with so few scars, I’d say she used them quite well. An’ now that she’s learnin’ how t’ use a spear, she’s gettin’ even better.”

Fili held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, though he was laughing a bit. “Sorry, sorry—I didn’t mean any offense towards your lass, Bofur.” He then paused, his brows furrowing slightly. “Wait…She fought during the Battle?”

“Aye, she did,” Bifur nodded.

“That means she was part of the group of women fighting in Dale.”

“Aye, it does,” Bofur confirmed.

Fili rubbed the back of his head, his eyes wide. “Well then…I guess human women are stronger than we give them credit for. I’ve always heard that they’re weak in terms of battle prowess.”

Bifur shook his head. “Aye, we’ve learned not t’ underestimate human lasses in our time here.” He started to walk towards the back door, wanting to see how much work Will had gotten done so far that day. “We’ve actually learned not t’ underestimate humans in general while staying here.”

“There are those who are bad apples, o’ course, but for the most part, they’re fairly nice folk,” Bofur agreed. “It’s interestin’ seein’ what things they do differently from us dwarves. Like their kitchens. They don’t have combination stoves and ovens like we do—they still have an open hearth for spit-roastin’ and a smaller, raised hearth that they use as their stove.”

Fili cocked a disbelieving brow. “Wait, they still use hearths for cooking? I can understand for spit-roasting, but for everything else…?”

The cousins nodded, amused by his reaction. “That’s how all the food at the Tankard is cooked,” Bifur said. “Except for the pork last night—that was cooked in the ground.”

“An’ it was cooked to _perfection_ ,” Bofur grinned, a bit of a wistful grin on his lips as he remembered how delicious dinner had been the previous night.

“Perhaps I should talk uncle into including ranges as part of the trade treaties…They’re so much more efficient than hearths.” Shaking his head, Fili let out a sigh only to purse his lips in a bit of a pout when he heard Bofur and Bifur beginning to snicker. “What? What’s so funny?”

Bifur’s brow rose as he grinned teasingly. “You, lad—talkin’ about givin’ the people o’ Dale ranges as part o’ a treaty. What you do is you set one up somewhere where a lot o’ the public can see you using it, an’ then advertise the advantages o’ the things over traditional hearths.”

“An’ then, bein’ so impressed with it, the people will flock t’ Erebor an’ start commissioning them like crazy,” Bofur concluded. “Thereby increasin’ the flow o’ money between the two realms even more _and_ keeping the people up-t’-date with the latest cooking equipment.”

Rolling his eyes, Fili let out a small laugh. “We _don’t_ need any more money flowing through our coffers,” he countered. “I think it’d be a nice gesture of friendship, gifting the town with ranges. I know we’ve already helped them rebuild a fair portion of the city, but considering the hell we put them through eight years ago, I think we still owe them reparations.”

“Really?” Bifur questioned, his brow cocked. “I wouldn’t have expected you t’ think such a thing.”

Fili rubbed the side of his neck, another small laugh leaving his mouth—this one, however, sounded a bit on the nervous side. “Well, I mean…sure, the gold won’t bring back those who died because of our errand, but it will ensure that those who are still living—whether in health or were crippled because of the battle—can live in comfort. Not to mention, you _can’t_ tell me that our treasury doesn’t have enough gold. The amount we have hidden away in there is enough to rebuild Laketown, Dale, and Erebor thrice over.” He blinked when he was suddenly lightly elbowed by Bofur.

“An’ that’s exactly why, someday, you’re goin’ t’ be a great king, lad,” Bofur smiled. “You care about people.”

Fili’s cheeks turned a bit pink and a bashful smile came to his lips. “Thanks, Bofur…but, there’s still quite a few decades left before I’m made king.”

“Maybe. Or, maybe, Thorin will step down as king within the next decade or so,” Bifur grinned. “With how he’s been having you attend so many meetings and sending you off to do royal errands around the mountain, it wouldn’t surprise me if he stepped down within the next fifteen years or so.”

“Please don’t say that,” Fili groaned, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to king. There’s so much you have to do and so much you have to remember to _not_ do for fear of offending someone.” He shook his head. “Did you know that, when greeting someone from the Stiffbeard clan, the customary greeting _isn’t_ to clasp hands and hug like we do, but full on headbutt someone? And, unless you’ve an injury, it’s seen as insulting to not participate in the headbutt.”

Bifur and Bofur exchanged curious glances. “You mean like how Balin an’ Dwalin green one another?” the latter asked.

“Somewhat. You’re supposed to clasp hands and then make sure you slam the very front of your forehead against the very front of their forehead. If you tilted your head too far forward, it’s seen as a subtle way to insult the other’s height. Meanwhile, not tilting the head far enough back could be seen as you calling that person beneath you.” He shook his head. “And that’s just for the Stiffbeards. The Stonefoots and Blacklocks have their own different ways of greeting one another, too. I’m not sure if the Ironfists have a sp—” He blinked only to end up rolling his eyes as Bifur and Bofur scrunched up their noses and cursed the word ‘Ironfist’.

“No need t’ worry about their greetings, lad,” Bofur assured him. “You’ll never have t’ deal with them, so it’s pointless t’ learn how they greet one another.”

“An’ if you do have the misfortune o’ coming across one, then it’ll probably be in battle,” Bifur agreed with a nod, “in which case, they’ll end up pinned between the ground an’ one o’ your axes.”

Fili, however, didn’t seem as eager to join in with their insulting of the Ironfists. “Not unless they’re attacking me first,” he said. “Even then, I wouldn’t want to kill them if I didn’t have to.” He knew all too well how the Ironfists had slighted the Longbeards an age ago, but…it was an _age_ ago. Surely their people had changed over the centuries?

The cousins exchanged glances once more. “Why’s that, lad?” Bifur questioned.

He shrugged, rubbing the side of his neck as he glanced away. “I don’t know…I think it just might be time to end the feud between our clans. It’s been so long, after all—for all we know, they may want peace, but are too scared that we’ll kill them on sight to seek it out.” He sighed. “I mean, they can’t _all_ be bad—Dori’s got some Ironfist contacts that he says are quite pleasant.”

Bofur scratched his beard, a contemplative expression on his face. “Well, the sorts o’ people who Dori finds pleasant an’ who the rest o’ us find pleasant can be vastly differently at times. We’d have t’ meet these contacts for ourselves—which we all know isn’t about t’ happen anytime soon. Your uncle would never allow an Ironfist within fifty miles o’ the Mountain.”

“Then it’s something that may have to wait until I’m on the throne, I guess,” he chuckled. He was a bit relieved that neither of them were scolding him for defending the ‘enemy’ clan—every time he tried to bring up possible peace negotiations between them with Thorin, Balin, or his mother, he’d get an earful about how the Ironfists were monsters.

‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘they, along with Bombur, _aren’t_ Longbeards. They don’t exactly hold grudges like Longbeards can…’

* * *

“You’re right, love—the view from up here _is_ quite nice.”

Ori grinned as he glanced up at Dwalin. “Worth the climb, isn’t it?”

Dwalin snorted, his brow rising slightly. “I’m not quite so sure about _that_ …” Shaking his head, he looked down at the shorter dwarf, a fond smile on his lips. “How often do you come up here?” With no one else around, the pair spoke in Khuzdul.

“Once or twice a week.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the railing of the tower. “I used to come here more often, but now that I’ve been helping Bifur and Bofur, I don’t get the chance as often.” A smile came to his lips as he felt a gentle spring breeze waft past them. “I like how I can see for miles in all directions from up here.”

“It’d be a good place to station some lookouts…they might even be able to see some of those raiders from up here.” He reached over and set his hand on Ori’s back, rubbing it gently. “But, I suppose for those who are more artistically minded, it’s better for practicing landscapes.”

At that, Ori laughed, his brow rising. “Not just landscapes. It’s a good place to come when I want to be alone…which is happening a bit more often, now that I’m around Bifur and Bofur more throughout the day.” He shook his head, sighing. “They’re good friends, yes, but…they’re a bit too chatty at times. That, and I’m a wee bit tired of Bofur always glaring at Rán during the meals.”

Dwalin’s brows furrowed slightly. “You mean that pretty boy half-dwarf?” he questioned. As Ori nodded, he made a sound of understanding. “I can see why he glares at him though. If that half-dwarf is his rival for the Braddock lass, he’s got himself some stiff competition.” He then shook his head. “Strange, though. I haven’t seen many half-dwarves, but of the ones I _have_ seen, he’s the only one who shaves. That isn’t right—someone with dwarf blood shaving.”

Snickering, Ori rolled his eyes. “He also came from a much warmer climate than what we live in. Not to mention, an entirely different culture. Maybe the men in Dorwinion prefer smooth chins?” Leaning against Dwalin, he closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. “Maybe when winter comes around, he’ll stop shaving and let his dwarvishness take over.” 

“I doubt that, since one of those rangers has a full beard—a short one, but a beard nevertheless.”

“Why are you so concerned over Rán’s lack of beard?” he laughed, opening an eye to look up at his lover. “He’s allowed to shave if he wants.”

“It’s not right, though.”

Opening both eyes now, he looked up at Dwalin with one brow cocked. “Think of it this way, love: He’s a fairly handsome lad without a beard, but if he _did_ have a beard, I might be staring at him a bit more often,” he joked.

Dwalin gave him a dry look before lightly rubbing his knuckles against his scalp. “I know you’re not into pretty boys like him. Otherwise, you would have fallen for Fili or Kili.”

His cheeks turned red and, laughing, he tried to fend off Dwalin’s hand. “Fili and Kili are like brothers to me—I wouldn’t fall for either of them even if they were my type!” He blew a raspberry up at him when he successfully fought off his hand.

“Well, that’s a relief to hear.” A small grin came to his lips. “Neither of them would make a good match for you, anyway, what with Kili being into elves and Fili…well, he hasn’t really shown interest in anyone, really.”

“There’s been a few lasses he’s eyed in the past—not here in Erebor, but back in Ered Luin.”

“And how do you know this?”

Shrugging, he leaned against the railing again. “He told me. I’m apparently the only dwarf he trusts enough to confide such information to, as he thinks everyone else would blab to Thorin and Dis.”

“…Well, he’s not entirely wrong there. Kili, after all, is quite the blabber mouth and Gloin’s boy would take it upon himself to try and match Fili up with whoever it was he had his eye one.”

Ori couldn’t help but laugh at the thought and lightly shook his head. “I don’t know why, but imagining Gimli, of all dwarves, playing matchmaker is rather hilarious. And yet, it’s so very true. He _would_ try to help Fili connect with a lass he fancied.”

Dwalin quietly snorted. “Of course, whether or not he was successful in his endeavors to help Fili’s romantic life is up for debate. I know the lad fancies himself quite the romantic, but from what I’ve heard from Gloin, the lad’s so bad at flirting, he makes Bofur’s attempts look suave.”

Again, Ori laughed, his brow rising. “I guess it all depends on who Bofur’s flirting with, then.”

“Though…speaking of flirting and relationships and such…” There was hesitation in Dwalin’s voice as he rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve been doing some thinking about our relationship—”

Ori’s stomach started to churn in dread, thinking that Dwalin was about to end things with him, as absurd of a thought as that was.

“—And I think it’s about time we told your brothers. About ‘us’, I mean.”

A silent sigh of relief left his mouth, though his stomach still churned at the thought of Dori and Nori finding out about them. “You…think it’s time to tell them? Really?”

He glanced away. “If you’re not ready, then we don’t have to,” he quickly told him. “I just think it’d be better for them to find out through us rather than through secondary sources, you know?” Rubbing the back of his head again, he looked out towards Erebor once more. “As sneaky as we can be, there’s always a chance someone’s going to find out.”

Nodding in agreement, Ori turned his gaze down towards the city. “That’s true,” he murmured. “Especially with Nori being Spymaster…” A quiet sigh left his mouth; he watched as people made their way through the streets, hocking their wares or moving at a leisurely pace as they spoke with a friend or lover. “We can tell them,” he said after a moment, “but can we do it after I get back from Laketown? I want to have time to prepare myself mentally for Dori’s reaction.”

Dwalin couldn’t help but snort at that. “That’ll be for the best, to be honest. I’ve also got to prepare for his reaction—I’m going to have to either commission some really thick armor or buy myself a really fast pony if I want to avoid his wrath.” A cheeky grin came to his lips when Ori, unable to hold back his snickers, smacked his arm.

“He won’t be _that_ upset…I hope.”


End file.
